The Spider's Web
by Merrick Mayfair
Summary: "Let's cut the bullshit..." interjected Kingsley "You are here representing SHIELD a quasi military intelligence organisation that is so suspect that I wouldn't touch it with a six foot broomstick under normal circumstances..." An international magic/muggle operation sets an unlikely couple on a desperate race to keep an ancient source of terrible power out of the hands of HYDRA.
1. Chapter 1

This story is the result of prompts from lo234 and Ms Kitty Black my lovely Beta, who both requested something with a Harry/Natasha pairing. Now this is a couple I had never considered, but when I came to write it, they worked really well together. So if they aren't a couple you've thought of either - give it a go, you might be surprised.

Rated M for smut, and because Harry turned out to have a filthy mouth when necessary (seriously - I was shocked... he seemed such a nice young man). If you would rather imagine than read - fair do's, warnings will be given at the beginning of each chapter when necessary.

GENERAL WARNING. THIS IS PREDOMINANTLY ROMANCE / ADVENTURE BUT THERE ARE SOME VERY DARK THEMES IN LATER CHAPTERS. CAUTION IS ADVISED.

Enjoy - and let me know what you think.

 _Merrick x_

* * *

 ** _Monastery of Saint Cynderyn, Llanelwy, North Wales_**

 _The nights darken as this year of Our Lord 596 year draws to its close, and I know in my heart that I shall not live to see the birth of another. My life as a Choir Monk of this House is now over, and I spend my final days in the Infirmary among my brothers. Brother Athanasius, the Infirmarer has granted me the luxury of a small writing desk, and on that desk I write this, my final testament._

 _I have seen much in my long life, and in that time have been warrior, sinner, scholar, servant to those who walk with Kings and now, finally, Brother of this House, from whence I will set out upon my last journey when my time comes. I pray that God will look gently upon my sins, and receive me into his arms._

 _But I must confess that this dearest hope is also my greatest fear._

 _For if I am received into the arms of Our Lord, through the gates of Purgatory, how will I then see my old master again, for one such as he will never be received at the Gates of Saint Peter. Perhaps Our Lord will refuse my sinner's soul, and I will find my shade wandering freely with my old master and that brave company, sharing adventures as we had been wont to do, before he chose to follow his greatest friend and King into the shadowlands to await this land's greatest need._

 _If it is not my destiny to see him again, then I pray (and I hope the Good God will forgive such blasphemy) that my master knows that I did not fail him. That the great treasure that he entrusted to me, the source of all of his mighty power, was bestowed on the isle which was so sacred to his people, to lie in safety, watched over by the guardian spirits of the slain, for I tremble for the fate of this world, should such terrible power fall into the hands of the evil doer..._

ooo0ooo

 **Somewhere in Eastern Europe, September 2010**

Since the days of the great library of Alexandria, there had never been a collection such as this. Acres and acres of underground vaults, dimly lit, aside from the pools of light that hung over each work station, document table and computer. Every document of historical significance the world over had copies on these shelves, and the advent of digital archives had only served to expand the collection further, as systems all over the world were discretely hacked and copied by the finest specialists in their field.

Bent over one of the large wooden work tables surrounded by piles of manuscripts, transcriptions and hand written texts, Cedna Yablonsky permitted herself a small crow of triumph as she pored over a particularly tightly written scrap of parchment; attracting the attention of her immediate supervisor Kurt Zepper.

"You have found something Yablonsky?" Cedna bristled at his tone, stretching the kinks from her back. The Comptroller for Artifact Research and Project Initiation was a small plump man, approaching middle age, and full of his own self-importance. While Cedna held her post by right of her PHDs in Early Medieval Latin and Early Northern European Languages, and an impressive academic reputation; Zepper held his solely by his extensive capabilities as a yes-man and arse-kisser extraordinaire to those in power.

Drawing herself up to her full height, Cedna glared down at Zepper's five feet six… "That's _Doctor_ Yablonsky thank you very much Comptroller. And yes… I have something…"

For what seemed like a very long time, Zepper studied the pages of notes on Yablonsky's work station. Then he turned abruptly, scurrying rat-like across the room, reaching for the secure telephone on his desk.

"Operator… yes. This is Zepper of Station R. I need to speak with Baron Wolfgang von Strucker…

Is it urgent? Of course it is urgent. Would I bother the Baron with trivialities…?

Yes… thank you. _Hail Hydra"_

ooo0ooo

 **The North of England (a few days later)**

Auror Malfias Meeks took a bite of his ham roll and looked around at the remains of the cellar with dissatisfaction. "Why do we get all the weird stuff Sir? Seriously. Who would try to breed dragons in a terrace house in Macclesfield? It doesn't make any sense. Beside, isn't this a job for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures?"

Harry Potter, head of the Phoenix Squad, the Ministry of Magic's shiny new top secret team of "Wizards without Portfolio" glared at the speaker, sighed heavily, and struggled to re-focus for the third time. "It would be Meeks, except for the fact that this numpty has _tried_ to set up a parallel dimension in the cellar to allow the buggers to grow to full size without demolishing or burning down the house." Harry broke off to gesture crossly at the semi-ruined house, which was still smoking in a few places. " OK so it clearly didn't work, but all that means is that in addition to wrangling dragons and their demented owner, not to mention a whole load of booby traps, cock-eyed wards, magical alarms and hysterical muggles, we also have to dismantle this parallel dimension – preferably without ripping a bloody great hole in the fabric of time and space itself, potentially ending the world as we know it.

So if you would kindly shut up, put that bloody roll away, and let me concentrate that would be really helpful."

Auror Meeks waited until his boss's back was turned to roll his eyeballs expressively and swipe one more bite of his lunch. It was going to be a very long day...

ooo0ooo

 **New York**

Just as Harry was wrestling with the mess in Macclesfield, Commander Nick Fury was striding into his office in SHIELD Headquarters, New York, take away coffee from one of the six local shops he frequented, in hand. With a nod and a grunt to his long suffering PA, Fury pushed the door open to his office, and froze, seeing the black suited figure by the window.

"Coulson. Good to see you. How're you doing? I thought you were at that fancy new Comms base of yours in the ass end of nowhere. What brings you back to the big city?" He glanced at his watch, which showed it to be a few minute before 0700. "Especially at this time of the morning."

Agent Phil Coulson gripped his boss's hand warmly. "We intercepted something from our friends in Hydra Sir. I didn't think it could wait. You know their obsession with finding powerful artefacts, since Schmidt found the Tesseract?" Fury nodded, inviting Coulson to sit down. "Well we think they may be after something else Sir…"

Fury took a mouthful of coffee and leaned back in his chair. "Start at the beginning Coulson…"

Almost an hour later Fury's PA looked up as Coulson and Fury left the office together. Coulson was already on his cellphone, "This is Coulson. Yes. Something's come up, I need you on a plane to London this morning. Get to Ministro Pistarini by 11.45 your time and we'll have a plane waiting for you. Yes I'm aware it's 10 am now…. Yes Natasha, I know exactly what the morning traffic's like in Buenos Aires…. Yes. It's important. Look, we're still waiting to tie some loose ends together. Call me when you're en route and I'll brief you. OK. I'll talk to you later..."

Hearing the tail end of Coulson's call, Fury smiled grimly, turning to his PA, handing her a card. "I need you to call this number at the Woolworth Building. You need to get me this man and this man only… Put him straight through on my secure line, you understand?"

She nodded, peering uncertainly at the card. "Samuel G Qua…?"

"Quahog…Samuel G Quahog"

She looked up at him, wide eyed. "Is this for real Sir?"

"Need to know Skye. Need to know"

"Yes Sir"

One the card, in flowing formal script, very different to the austere san serif font favoured by SHIELD, it read:

 _From the Office of Samuel G Quahog_

 _President of the Magical Congress of the United States of America_

ooo0ooo

Auror Meeks was right, it had been a VERY long day.

By the time the dragons had been corralled and removed – Harry breathed a prayer of thanks to Charlie Weasley and his team who had arrived just in time to prevent Harry, Meeks and two other team members from being incinerated – it was close to midnight. As it was four of Harry's team would be spending the night in Saint Mungo's being treated for burns, and a further two were there waiting to have strange growths removed – a result of two of the house owner's rather erratic line in booby traps and wards. Draco Malfoy, his second in command had had his burns treated and been dispatched home by Harry to rest and recover.

The amount of paperwork this was going to generate made Harry's head ache just thinking about it.

But the incomplete attempt to play with time and space had been satisfactorily closed down without any long term side effects; muggle witnesses had had their memories modifies, and a story had been fed to the press about rusty gas canisters stored in the cellar leaking and causing an explosion.

Not a bad day, all in all,, thought Harry wearily. Now what he really wanted was a cup of tea.

Heading up to the canteen, still brushing plaster and cinders out of his hair, he was interrupted by an internal memo flapping busily around his ears.

"Not now..." he growled irritably. "Go wait on my desk."

But the annoying piece of paper didn't give up. Grabbing it with the intention of stuffing it in his pocket and hopefully forgetting about it, Harry looked at the address and froze.

" _From the Office of the Minister for Magic._

 _Urgent and Confidential - For your eyes only."_

Harry glared at the innocent memo as if it were personally responsible for the ills of the world.

"Now? Seriously? Do you have any idea what time it is?"

The memo just fluttered officiously at him.

"OK OK" Opening the envelope he scanned the contents quickly, and looking at his watch, swore under his breath and headed for the nearest lift.

"Office of the Minister for Magic... and hurry up!"

ooo0ooo

In the absence of the Minister's usual army of PAs, secretaries and administrators Harry knocked on the imposing oak door of the Inner Sanctum. Without any response, the door opened silently.

"Aah Harry. Come in. Sit down..." Kingsley Shacklebolt took in his disheveled appearance and smiled broadly. "I'm sorry to call you so late, especially since it looks like you've had a busy day. Can I offer you a cup of tea – or something stronger."

Kingsley was well known for keeping a bottle of excellent Firewhisky in his bottom drawer, but Harry feared that alcohol at the moment would probably finish him off.

"Tea would be fine, thank you Minister."

Kingsley waved a large hand dismissively. "Kingsley Harry – please. We're off the clock now. Sit, sit. Relax. Here."

The tea he pressed into Harry's hand was mercifully strong and in a mug rather than a fiddly little china cup. Harry wrapped his hands around it, savouring the warmth, and waited to find out what all this was about. Once Kingsley was back at his desk, he steepled his hands and looked owlishly at Harry over the top of his glasses.

"So how're the Phoenix Squad doing Harry? I hear good things."

Well aware that this was just a preamble, Harry played along. "They're doing well Sir. Some are still a bit green, but the old hands more than make up for it. They did a good job today, under difficult circumstances"

Kingsley nodded. "So I heard Harry. And how's young Malfoy shaping up as your right hand man?"

Harry smiled, but his tone was wary, well aware that eyebrows had been raised in certain key areas of the Ministry when he had appointed Draco. "First class Sir. The men were a little wary of him at first, but he fits right in now, they follow him as readily as they follow me. We make a good team."

"Easy Harry. I had no doubts about young Mr Malfoy. If he has your confidence that's all that matters. What I was wondering was whether you would be happy to leave him in charge for a while?"

Harry's face gave little away. "Go on"

Kingsley took a swig of his tea. "Got a very strange message from my opposite number in the USA today Harry. It seems that there's a "significant threat" looming from some criminal organisation – I forget the name – something mythological. Anyway, apparently it requires an international joint muggle / magical investigation."

Harry's eyebrows shot up. "Muggle / magical Sir? Doesn't that contravene the Statute of Secrecy?"

Kingsley laughed. "Oh Harry. The Statute of Secrecy is a spiders web. It catches the small issues but the really big stuff flies straight through it. There's always a way round when phrases like National Security are involved. Now – where's that letter?" He located a role of parchment with an impressive looking seal on it, and peered shortsightedly at it, before looking back up at Harry.

"Harry, would you mind opening my other door and inviting in the confused looking muggle that you find there please."

Harry opened the door which led into Kingsley's "public" office, which was used for visiting dignitaries, members of the press and people for interviews. The only man seated there was spectacular for his utter ordinariness. Harry knew people that had made an art form out of blending into the background but this man left them all standing. Even in a black muggle suit and black tie, he still managed to be unobtrusive when seated in the office of the Minister of Magic..

Harry was impressed. Even when this guy was responsible for his still being at work when he should have been home in bed, he was impressed.

"Come this way... Mr..?"

The man rose, a wary smile on his face, hand extended… "Coulson. Agent Phil Coulson..."

ooo0ooo

Harry ushered Agent Coulson back into Kingsley's office, watching with surprise as Kingsley triggered the security wards on the already secure office. Whatever this was, it was serious to need additional protection at this time of the night.

Once introductions had been made, and seats taken, Agent Coulson extracted a file from his messenger bag and met Kingsley's eyes steadily.

"Thank you for meeting with me Minister, Mr Potter. I represent certain key agencies with global security interests, who are currently in receipt of highly disturbing information, which may pertain to..."

"Agent Coulson. It's late, so let's cut the bullshit..." interjected Kingsley. "You are here representing the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division, more generally known as SHIELD, and through them, the World Security Council, a shadowy organisation so secret that even your boss Nick Fury doesn't know who they are. SHIELD themselves are a quasi military intelligence organisation that is so suspect that I wouldn't touch it with a six foot broomstick under normal circumstances.

However, the fact that you are even here means that something very serious is going down. So would you mind cutting the crap and telling us exactly what the problem is and how we can help..."

Harry tipped his head back and closed his eyes, smiling broadly. OK so he had been up for almost twenty hours, he was still filthy, everything ached, and there was a foot high pile of paperwork waiting for him when he got back to his desk, but sometimes he really, _really_ loved Kingsley Shacklebolt.

Coulson leaned his head into one hand, shaking his head slightly. Harry got the distinct impression that he was trying very hard not to laugh, and his opinion of the man rose fractionally. Eventually Coulson looked squarely at Kingsley

"Minister... Have you ever heard of an organisation called Hydra?"

Kingsley shook his head slowly, thinking. "Not before the message I received this earlier. What can you tell us about them?"

Coulson opened the folder on his lap. "OK, a bit of background. Hydra started as the research division for Hitler's Third Reich. In those days the man behind the organisation was a man imaginatively named Johann Schmidt. He was one of Hitler's inner circle, they shared an obsession with the occult and Teutonic Myths. To Schmidt these myths were real, and he was obsessed with the conviction that true sources of tremendous power are still there to be found. One of the results of Schmidt's obsession surfaced in New York a while back with some very unpleasant and potentially global consequences, that we fortunately managed to nip in the bud at the last minute.

Eventually Schmidt, and a brilliant scientist Dr Arnim Zola split from the Nazis to go it alone. In an effort to obtain additional power, Schmidt took a prototype formula which was supposed to turn him into some kind of superman. In fact it turned him into a monster. Calling himself the Red Skull, he was eventually defeated and destroyed by a crack team from the US Army. But although the Red Skull was dead, Zola made a deal and came to the US with Operation Paperclip, and their organisation has continued into the present day. Hydra was founded on the belief that humanity could not be trusted with its own freedom. For seventy years it grew like a parasite within SHIELD, operating under the radar. We are working to weed them out, but like the Hydra of the legends, if you cut off one head, two more grow back."

Kingsley put down his tea. "This is all very interesting Agent Coulson, but what has SHIELD's security nightmare got to do with us?"

"Because we have just intercepted an incomplete communication via a top secret Hydra double agent. When decoded, it was a name and a number." He handed Kingsley a slip of paper. After a moment Kingsley passed it to Harry. " _Caron of Llanelwy 596."_

"Do you know what it means?"

Harry frowned. "Llanelwy is in North Wales. There's a small cathedral there, that's about all I know."

Coulson's mild face hardened. "It's important. According to our source, they are tremendously excited about something. Hydra is still obsessed with tracking down mythical and religious artefacts for the powers that they could potentially bring them."

Harry chuckled in disbelief. "You have to be kidding me. Are you sure we haven't slid sideways into an _Indiana Jones_ movie. The Nazis looking for the Ark of the Covenant?" Kingsley looked blank not recognising the muggle analogy.

Coulson glared at him. "Take it from me Mr Potter, there is absolutely nothing funny about Hydra. If they're over here, digging around for something they consider important, we need to work together to find out what the hell it is that they're looking for, and make damn sure that they don't find it. Because if they do then God help us all.

We have to be careful. If they find out that we're onto them, firstly our double agent will be in terrible danger, and secondly, they will throw absolutely everything they have at it. We won't stand a chance."

Kinsley nodded. "OK Agent Coulson, I'll buy that there's a top secret organisation – other than yours of course – running around Britain looking for something. But I still don't understand why you came to the magical community. Why not the muggle secret service for instance?"

"There was another word in the message. We had to do some digging, but eventually we tracked it down. The word was _Emrys._ That means nothing to me – apparently it's 'need to know' but our experts must have been certain that it would mean something to you…"

Harry looked at Kingsley, eyes widening. "Emrys?"

"Go on Harry"

"Emrys..." Harry met Coulson's eyes squarely. "OK Agent Coulson, we'll look into it. If they are looking for something magical, we might be able to help. We'll keep you posted."

Coulson smiled and shook his head. "Oh no Mr Potter, you may be expert on magic, but we're the ones that know about Hydra. So you will be working with one of our agents. You will be meeting them here.. ." he handed Harry a slip of paper."

Harry scanned the paper, nodding acknowledgement. "Who am I meeting"

"One of our best. Agent Natasha Romanoff..."

Sometime later, Harry escorted Agent Coulson back to the muggle street and deposited him in a taxi. Instead of returning to his desk and paperwork, as he had originally intended, he headed for the night-floo, in the morning he would need to pay an early morning call on his second in command. Draco wasn't going to object to being left in charge for a while, but he was definitely going to be pissed off with getting stuck with the paperwork from the previous day's operation.


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you so much for the amazing response to chapter one - to be honest I'd had a horrible feeling that this might not be too popular - how wrong was I? A special thanks to those that posted reviews - love and choc chip cookies to you all._

 _Apologies - I forgot this in chapter one. For the record I have no claim on either Marvel or JK Rowling's characters. I make nothing from this beyond my own personal satisfaction and hopefully your enjoyment._

 _Enjoy - and let me know what you think_

 _Merrick x_

* * *

Draco Malfoy was still sitting in his pyjamas, enjoying his Earl Grey and toast when his floo pinged to announce Harry's arrival the following morning. Entering his sitting room, he was surprised to find his boss and former nemesis standing on his hearth rug, busy siphoning the soot off his robes with his wand.

Draco smiled lazily, leaning casually against the door frame. "Really Harry. I know I was less than well last night, but I don't think I merit a house-call… Since you're here, can I offer you some tea?"

Harry sniffed dismally at the Earl Grey and pulled a face. "I don't suppose you have any coffee?"

Draco smirked. "I may have an elderly jar of instant in the back of a cupboard somewhere. Could the great Harry Potter compromise with English Breakfast?"

Trailing Draco back into the kitchen, Harry perched comfortably at the breakfast bar and watched him pottering around the kitchen. "Nice pyjamas Draco. Black silk - why am I not surprised?"

Draco huffed, putting a mug down in front of Harry. "There you are Harry. And I even found a mug for you. Would you like some toast?"

Harry shook his head and took a tentative sip of his tea. "That's good Draco… thank you. How's the shoulder this morning?" Draco shrugged dismissively, refilled his bone china cup and took another bite of his toast.

"It's fine, like I said last night. There was really no need to ship me off to Saint Mungo's, it was nothing I couldn't have treated myself."

Harry scowled at his second in command over the top of his mug. "Dragon fire burns are not to be taken lightly – you needed to get it looked at. Even more so now…"

"Now?"

"I'm going to have to leave you in charge for a bit"

Draco put his tea cup down slowly. "Harry Potter, don't tell me they finally talked you into taking some of that leave that you've had owing for Merlin knows how long?"

Harry shook his head. "No, when I got back to the office last night I had a message from Kingsley. An urgent message…"

"Don't tell me, let me guess… The famous Harry Potter saves the world again…"

Harry shook his head. "I don't know. I can't go into details, but somethings got Shacklebolt's wand in a knot. It'll probably turn out to be a wild goose chase. So while I'm away – you're in charge. Just – be good, and try not to wind the boss up OK" Thaddeus Fitch, the Head of Magical Law Enforcement, and Harry's immediate boss had lost his eldest son in the run up to the Battle of Hogwarts and had been horrified when Harry had appointed the son of a former Death Eater as his second in command. Generally, they rubbed along with a fairly frosty politeness, but there had been a few incidents when Harry had been forced to intervene for the sake of interdepartmental peace and quiet.

Draco held his hands up. "I'll be sweetness and light personified. Just watch your back, and shout if you need backup."

"I promise" Harry looked at his watch. "Hell, I have to go or I'll be late for this meeting. Thanks for the tea Draco, and I'll probably see you in a few days, once I have this sorted out"

"Take care Harry…. Oh you sneaky bastard…"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "I'm sorry"

"...so you bloody well should be. You're leaving me with all of yesterday's paperwork aren't you?"

Harry shrugged and grinned broadly. "What can I say Malfoy… gotta go save the world…"

Draco sat down as the floo whisked Harry away, smiling and shaking his head. "Sometimes I still really hate that man…"

ooo0ooo

Harry stepped out of the floo into the bar of the Leaky Cauldron, which was fortuitously quiet at that slack, pre-lunchtime time of the morning. With a curt nod to Tom, who was stacking glasses behind the bar, Harry slipped out of the muggle-side door on his way to his rendezvous with the SHIELD agent.

" _How will I know this Agent Romanoff?"_

" _Oh don't you worry about that Mr Potter. Just you be there on time and she'll find you..."_

The imaginatively titled "Copper Kettle" was to be found only a few streets away from the Cauldron and was your classic nondescript backstreet London coffee shop where, with the exception of a few elderly regulars, no-one knew anyone, and everyone minded their own business. The coffee was undistinguished to say the least, but as a meeting place, Harry thought, he'd been to worse. Dressed in jeans, hoodie and trainers, his nose buried in a scruffy detective novel, Harry knew that no-one would give him a second glance.

"Is this seat taken?"

The girl standing opposite him was similarly dressed, in a zip up hooded jacket at least four sizes too big for her, and baggy jeans. Under the hood, most of her face was concealed by a pair of heavy glasses. If this was Agent Romanoff, thought Harry, she wasn't quite what he was expecting. Ostentatiously looking around at the numerous empty seats elsewhere, he shrugged and nodded before returning to his book.

The girl rummaged in an oversized rucksack, pulling out a mobile, which she fiddled with for a few minutes.

If this was her, thought Harry, they were going to sit here all day if someone didn't say something soon...

"Harry Potter?" The girl's voice was low, with little trace of an accent

Barely glancing up from his book, Harry nodded briefly.

Without another word, the girl finished her coffee and left. Giving her a respectable few minutes, Harry followed. She was waiting for him just around the first corner, hood pulled forward to conceal as much of her face as possible.

"Ms Romanoff I assume? Disguises, facial recognition, anonymous meetings, this is all very cloak and dagger."

"I'm impressed Mr Potter. I didn't think that those of your... persuasion would know about such things as facial recognition apps."

Harry smiled. "I may be a wizard Ms Romanoff, but I spent the first eleven years of my life as a muggle, and I've kept in touch. It's proved very useful in my line of work, being able to move between the magical and muggle worlds"

"Muggle?"

"Those without magic, like yourself"

She led him down a side street to a car which was clearly chosen to be as unobtrusive as she was. Once they were inside, she snapped her seat belt before turning to appraise him. Harry gave a small smile as cool intelligent blue eyes looked him over.

"You don't _look_ like a wizard."

Harry rolled his eyes. "What did you expect. Cloak, pointy hat, long white beard..."

"Magic wand?"

Harry couldn't resist it, eyes wide open and innocent... "Ms Romanoff. Are you asking to see my wand?" Romanoff's glare froze him where he sat...

"O-kay no wand jokes. You're not far off though; under normal circumstances I _would_ wear the cloak, and on official occasions have been known to wear the hat - although I feel like an idiot in it – but you'll need to give me a year or two before I start thinking about the beard. I only just turned thirty you know. And if it comes to that – you don't look much like an American Secret Agent – or a Russian one either if I'm honest."

"What did _you_ expect. Trench coat, trilby and dark glasses."

Harry laughed and raised his eyebrows wickedly. "Tatiana Romanova?"

Agent Romanoff scowled. "James Bond. I really hate James Bond. Do you know how many _From Russia with Love_ lines there are? Besides – Romanova she wasn't even an agent, she was a secretary that got dragged in because she was blonde with great..." she gestured vaguely towards her chest "... potential."

"Fair enough, I take your point."

"So... Mr Potter?"

"Harry"

"Harry. Where are we going?"

"Out of town. Do you have a bag..?"

"In the trunk. What about you?"

"I'm good. And this is England, cars have boots, not trunks."

Romanoff huffed irritably as she started the car and pulled out of the side street, narrowly missing an oncoming taxi. Harry leaned back in his seat and sighed... It was going to be another long day.

ooo0ooo

Harry successfully navigated them out of London and onto the M40 motorway. Once they were clear of the outskirts of the city, they pulled into a service station. "I need to change out of of _this"_ Romanoff plucked disdainfully at the baggy sweatshirt, "and top up my caffeine levels – then you can tell me where the hell we're going." Leaving Harry next to the ubiquitous chain store coffee shop she headed for the ladies.

"Mine's a no-fat cappuccino, with an extra shot and sugar free vanilla"

Harry shook his head. "Whatever happened to 'black or white?'"

The queue for the coffee shop was tiresomely long, and inevitably Harry ended up stuck between tired looking woman with a grizzling child and a flirtatious young woman who seemed determined to get his phone number. He had finally reached the front of the queue when he became aware that the young barista was staring, mesmerised, over his shoulder.

"Hello – could I have one regular cappu... Hello"

"Hello darling, are you alright?"

Harry looked down, and his eyes bugged. Gone were the baggy, unflattering clothes and huge glasses, to be replaced by black cashmere sweater, slim fitting jeans and boots, revealing curves that made Harry's head spin. Bright red hair tumbled in loose curls over her shoulder, clashing dazzlingly with red lips that he was trying _really_ hard not to have very professionally inappropriate thoughts about.

Completely ignoring Harry's shell shocked expression, Romanoff tucked her arm into his, smirking at the persistent young woman behind him, before turning back to the barista and giving their order."

After Harry had paid they selected a quiet corner of the cafe.

"So where are we going Gandalf?"

Pulling himself together, Harry rolled his eyes. "Can we make a deal? I promise not to make any more James Bond cracks if you can remember my name is Harry?"

Romanoff took an appreciative sip of her coffee and shrugged. "Fair enough. So how much do you know - Harry?"

"Well - Llanelwy is a small cathedral town in North Wales."

"And the 596. A house number?"

Harry shook his head. "If this is what I think it is, it may well be a date.. 596 AD"

She blinked. "Wow. That's old. Living in the States you tend to forget how old things are in Britain. Over there anything over a hundred years old is considered historic. Over here, your average townhouse is older than that. How far is it?"

"About four hours - maybe a little more depending on the traffic"

Romanoff rose and picked up her coffee. "Well we'd best get our asses into gear. Let's go Merlin."

"Emrys"

She froze, halfway across the car park, giving him her full attention and undivided attention for the first time. "What did you say?"

"Emrys." Harry couldn't resist a smug smile. "According to some legends, Emrys is a name commonly associated with the man we know as Merlin."

"Oh you have _got_ to be joking me... _Merlin?"_

"That was what clued me into the date."

Slamming the car door she turned to glare at him – daring him to be mocking her. "But Merlin's a myth. Like Arthur and Guinevere and Lancelot…"

"…and wizards and magic?"

"Well so far _\- Mr_ Magic Man - I haven't seen any proof of that. Not even a white rabbit out of a hat."

"We're not back to making cracks about the size of my wand again are we? Because wizards get very sensitive about that sort of thing…"

 _Ok_ thought Harry, wincing as she slammed the car irritably into gear.. _Enough with the smutty jokes until you know her a little better…._

Feeling the effects of the previous day Harry dozed most of the way to Chester, only waking for the trickier bits of navigation around the British motorway system. At Chester they stopped briefly, to grab a coffee and debate whether or not to risk motorway catering or to push on. They decided to wait, Harry taking the wheel for the final stretch, preferring to wait for a decent meal once they reached their destination.

It turned out to be a good decision. The road was clear, and within the hour they were pulling into the picturesque centre of St Asaph.

As he pulled into the car park by the cathedral Harry realised that Natasha had dozed off, her head resting against the window. As soon as the engine stopped, however, she was wide awake and immediately wary.

"Where are we?"

"St Asaph. That's the Cathedral over there."

She stared at him, eyes suddenly suspicious. "I thought we were going to Llan... Llan..." she stumbled sleepily over the unfamiliar name.

Harry smiled, opening his door. "St Asaph is the English name, but this is Wales, so most places have two names. Llanelwy in Welsh. Come on, let's go for a walk."

By then it was early evening and the ancient cathedral was already closed, but they wandered aimlessly around the site stretching their legs and getting their bearings. Natasha had her nose glued to her phone, looking up the building's history.

"Amazing..." she murmured, gazing up at the carved stonework, "In the thirteenth century the English nearly burned the place to the ground, then someone called Owain..." She hesitated over the Welsh name.

"Glendower" finished Harry helpfully. He peered over her shoulder. "Again, I think that's the Welsh spelling."

"... And they say that Russian is difficult. How do you know all this anyway? You don't strike me as a Welsh History expert."

"I read..." Harry smiled. "Years ago, when I was a rookie Auror, I got stuck doing a stakeout on this house in this tiny village on the Norfolk coast that was being used to smuggle dark artifacts into the country. I spent three weeks posing as a writer, living in this tiny little bed and breakfast. The only thing I had to read was this whole series of detective stories about this monk that someone had kindly left on the bookshelf. The hero was Welsh, and there was a lot of historic background – earlier than this but it was quite interesting really, so I did a bit more reading, spent a few days up here, visiting some of the castles"

But Romanoff was no longer listening. "Don't look now..." she muttered "but I think we're being watched. Light blue Ford, over on the corner."

Taking her phone from her hand, Harry pretended to take a picture of Natasha, carefully catching the Ford in the background. "Got them"

As they walked back to their car, Harry slung a casual arm around her shoulder. "Hopefully they're looking for a couple of agents, not a young couple. Do you think there's any chance they _don't_ know what we look like?"

Natasha shrugged. "To be honest, I doubt they will have come across you. Even SHIELD has practically nothing on the British magical community. Me however... me they'll know... I had hoped that they might not have picked us up yet though."

"Don't worry. By the time we come back tomorrow your own mother wouldn't recognise you... just leave it to me."

"My own mother wouldn't recognise me now" muttered Natasha. "But what makes you think that we can fool them? I'm not the only one with facial recognition you know."

Harry smiled smugly, pulling her a little closer for authenticity, body turned slightly towards her, making it harder for the agents to see their faces clearly, all the time trying not to notice how easily she fitted against him. "Relax Agent Romanoff. They may have facial recognition, but you have a wizard. I got it covered as they say. Come on, we need to find a hotel."

"We haven't booked. Do you have somewhere in mind?"

Harry nodded. "It's a little way away, but I know just the place. And they'll be expecting us to stay locally"

"You know they'll follow us?"

"Just leave that to me"

Pulling out of the car park, Harry instructed Natasha to drive past the Hydra agents. Ignoring her look of surprise, his wand materialised in his hand, making her jump. As they approached the car he shot a surreptitious spell, from below the level of the window, into the bonnet of the car.

"So you really do have a wand" smiled Natasha. "What did you just do?"

"Put it this way. It'll take a while for them to get the car started" Harry smiled smugly. Sure enough, as they looked in the mirror he saw one of the agents leave the car to lift the bonnet . He looked furious. Harry's grin widened.

Once they were out of sight, Harry turned them inland, taking them by back roads through the lovely Welsh countryside to a pretty little inn, which stood on a valley road. As they pulled into the car park he pointed down the valley to the picturesque ruins further down. "Valle Crucis Abbey. This pub used to be part of the abbey lands. The last time I was here I had a very interesting conversation with a very pleasant monk – I forget his name. He was delighted that I could see him – I didn't have the heart to tell him I was a wizard. I was pretty sure that he would've disapproved."

He was suddenly aware that Natasha was looking at him as though he'd grown an extra head. "Ghosts" she said flatly "Harry there's no such thing as ghosts"

"Says you" Harry snarked. "When I was at school they were just a normal part of life... I never yet met a witch or wizard that couldn't see them."

"Fantastic. I suppose you'll tell me next that there are still Welsh Dragons in these mountains."

Harry shook his head seriously. "Not in the wild. There are native British Dragons of course, the Common Welsh Green and the Hebridean Black, but as far as I'm aware there aren't any left in the wild. Breeding dragons has been illegal in Britain since the Warlock's Convention of 1709. There are a couple of private collectors in the remotest areas of North Wales, and a family in the north of Scotland, but the majority of dragons are on special reserves in Europe these days."

"Good God", Natasha looked quite stunned. "Please. Don't tell me anymore... I don't think I can take it in."

"You _do_ look like you need a stiff drink. Come on, let's hope they have vacancies"

They were in luck. The pub was pretty quiet at this time of year, and the landlady was happy to help.

"Just the one night Mr err...?"

"Potter, Harry Potter" The moment he opened his mouth, Harry thought that he probably should have given a false name, but it was too late to worry now.

The landlady looked between them uncertainly. "Will it be one room or two?"

"Oh just the one please." Natasha leaned comfortably against Harry, the image of the happy couple.

The landlady smiled. "Certainly. Can you sign the register please...?"

Natasha stepped forward, signing as Mrs Natalie Potter of Charing Cross Road London. Having booked a table for dinner, they followed the landlady upstairs to a comfortable sized bedroom under the eaves. Once she had left them Harry turned back to Natasha. "Are you sure you wouldn't prefer two rooms?"

She shook her head, utterly unworried, absorbed in her phone. "You're right. Hydra will be looking for two agents, not a couple. They don't know your name either, which will help. Relax Harry, I've done some pretty unpleasant things in the line of duty, I think I can handle sharing a large and comfortable looking bed with you. Unless you snore of course, in which case I will have to shoot you."

She was joking, thought Harry. At least he hoped she was.

* * *

 _The pub that Harry and Natasha are staying at is real - and highly recommended. It is known to be haunted, and although I didn't get to chat with any of the former residents when we visited, my daughter and I did get woken up by a tapping on the door at 2, 4 and 6am, even though our rooms were at opposite ends of the same corridor, which only had one other occupant, and they denied all knowledge!_


	3. Chapter 3

_The response to this story continues to be amazing. Thank you to everyone that is reading, favouriting, following and reviewing. I had hoped to get this chapter posted mid week but we're in the middle of a massive four week inspection at work at the moment, so all I seem to want to do in the evenings - when I get home that is - is crash out. That is also my excuse for not responding to the lovely people that have reviewed - I promise to get to you all this weekend._

 _In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this... as always, I don't have any claim on Marvel or JK Rowling's characters, and do this solely for my personal satisfaction and your enjoyment._

 _Merrick x_

* * *

The back bar of the Abbey House Pub was comfortable, old fashioned and a little shabby around the edges, oak beams across the ceiling were studded with brightly polished horse brasses, matching the warming pan which hung on the wall. Natasha looked around at the faded curtains, Victorian prints and big old fashioned fireplace with distinct approval. "I like this... it's very - authentic."

The pub was quiet that evening, so they managed to claim the big overstuffed sofa nearest the fire without trouble. They were settled in for the evening, happily sated with the Inn's excellent catering when Natasha's phone pinged. Sighing, she put down her glass of red wine and dug it out of her pocket. Harry tried to resist the urge to peer over her shoulder as she read, focusing instead on watching the flames flickering among the logs in the fireplace. It had been a long day, following on from an even longer day and he was exhausted, physically and mentally. His reverie was interrupted by Natasha nudging him, as she proffered her phone.

"We have an ID on our two observers." The first picture showed a man a little younger than Harry with a broad, strongly boned face and short sandy hair, the kind commonly described as ginger, but quickly blonde in the sun. He didn't look dangerous Harry thought, although the remote look in his eyes was curiously chilling. The eyes were striking in themselves, being so pale, they were almost colourless. There was something strangely shark like about them. "The irate driver who's car you sabotaged today is Pat Donnelly a third generation Irish American from New Jersey. 29 years old, six feet three inches, approximately 220 pounds. Father unknown, mother died of a drugs overdose when he was two and a half, sending him into the system. Records show that he never stayed anywhere longer than a few months, often much less. Everywhere he went there were complaints of aggression, sometimes violence. He came to the notice of the law at eight with petty theft, graduated to knife crime by the time he was fifteen, and celebrated his coming of age by carjacking a couple for their brand new Jaguar using a stolen 9mm semi-automatic. The husband, who was 62 years old suffered six carefully positioned non-fatal gunshot injuries before his heart finally gave out. We believe that at that point Donnelly got bored and shot him in the head. It was the opinion of the Medical Examiner that his wife was alive for at least an hour after her husband finally expired. The reports show that her adrenaline levels were more than three times the normal resting level when he shot her."

Harry pulled a face, easily imagining how horrific that hour would have been. "Nasty"

"He didn't stop there. The body count continued to rise until he was 24 when he suddenly dropped off the radar. It appears that this was the point when HYDRA decided to make better use of his talents. He's been a low level thug and enforcer for them ever since."

"I'm insulted. I thought you and I between us merited better than some knuckle dragging thug. Is he the best they can offer?"

"Well at the moment we're only under observation remember. But the one you need to watch is the woman." Harry raised an eyebrow, looking at the conventionally pretty face, violet eyes and thick blonde hair worn in a pony tail. Natasha saw his expression and rolled her eyes. "Don't be deceived by the sweet, innocent looks, she's the brains of the operation, the one pulling Donnelly's strings. She's 25, five feet five, just a little under 120 pounds. Born Imogen Charlotte Mason, to a French mother, and an English father. He made an absolute fortune in construction in the eighties, so Imogen went to an expensive London girls school, followed by a double first in French and Russian at Oxford. Cold blooded, brilliant and utterly ruthless, she made some very dubious life choices in her early twenties, and ended up the mistress of one of HYDRA's key henchmen. When he got drunk and lost his temper with her one night she tied him to a chair and castrated him with a small serrated vegetable knife. Apparently it wasn't very sharp so the process wouldn't have been quick from the number of people that reported hearing screams in the surrounding area. By the time the cops arrived he was dead. It appears that she made herself a martini while she watched him bleed to death because when they got there the body was still warm and the glass was ice cold."

By now Harry was looking rather green and had put his pint down… "You're right. I'll take Donnelly thank you".

"They're an unpleasant pair. I've run up against Mason before – twice."

"What happened?"

"The first time – she nearly killed me" she shrugged ruefully "what can I say, it was a bad day... the second time we were interrupted by something bigger and nastier…. let's just say that we have unfinished business. If it comes to it, she's mine, just remember that"

Harry sighed. "So the answer to my question is yes. They're definitely onto us. But don't worry. We'll sort that our tomorrow."

She looked at him, eyes narrowed. "And how _exactly_ do you plan on doing that?"

Harry smiled and stood up. " _Abracadabra_ of course. Come on – Mrs Potter. We have an early start and a first class breakfast in the morning. Bedtime."

ooo0ooo

In a grubby back street in Washington Heights New York, sandwiched between a tattoo shop and a corner shop that hadn't been open for at least ten years was a dingy black door. Anyone that wasn't put off by the dubious neighbourhood, the litter strewn step and the peeling paintwork, would have viewed the almost illegible card tucked next to the doorbell, _"Smith's Import - Export"_ and taken their business elsewhere. Even if they had decided to persist, they would have pressed the bell in vain. It wasn't actually connected to anything.

In the sleek, well equipped office above, Sean Johnson, fresh from his morning run, thick iron grey hair still damp from the shower, leaned back in his chair, double espresso in hand, browsing through the emails that had come in over night. He was just about to start composing a particular acerbic response when the secure landline on his desk rang, making him start and almost spill his coffee.

"Johnson"

The woman's voice, and smooth English accent were unmistakeable. "Good evening Commander"

"Mason. I trust this is a matter of extreme urgency?"

"Indeed Commander. I believe we may have a problem"

Johnson sighed. "Explain"

"We picked up SHIELD's trail this evening. Romanova was there, as we suspected, and a man that is not known to us."

The Commander frowned. "Are you sure? We know all of SHIELD's principal agents - I can't imagine that they would send her with a rookie"

"Whoever he is Sir, he's no rookie. I'm sending a picture now." An email pinged on Johnson's tablet. "No, the problem came when they left St Asaph. We... ah... had some car trouble."

"Really Mason... you call me for _car trouble?_ Don't they have mechanics in England?"

"Wales Sir. We're in Wales, not England. And yes, they have mechanics. We've had a highly recommended one looking at the engine since six thirty this evening, and he's baffled. The car _was_ in perfect working order and now it's a brick."

Johnson tapped his pen irritably against his desk. "A brick?"

"Yes Sir. A fused lump of solid, immovable metal. Everything that should be moving isn't. It's impossible."

"There has to be a logical explanation Mason. How long did you leave the car for?"

"That's the thing Sir - we didn't. We were seated in the car when it happened."

"A mutant maybe? Isn't Lensherr a Brit?"

"Not by birth Sir no, although you'd never know to speak to him. But I don't know whether even he could have done this. The bodywork and electrics were perfect, it was just the engine."

"OK Mason, leave this with me. Continue to observe and I'll be in touch."

When the call was terminated, Johnson pondered for a few minutes, drinking his cooling coffee. Finally he sighed and picked up his secure line again.

"Hello... Yes... This is Johnson. Get me Araposa... Yes of course I know what time it is in London... Alright - enough - I don't have time for this. Get a message to her. I need her to review the email I'm about to send her, then call me. Whatever time... unlike her I don't keep office hours."

Hitting the send button Johnson abandoned his emails and logged into a highly secure file...

 _Codename Emrys._

ooo0ooo

The following morning, refreshed by a good night's sleep and a breakfast that was, Natasha admitted reluctantly, even better than Harry had promised, they left the pub, heading back to Llanelwy. Halfway up the pass Harry drew the car into a secluded spot. Natasha eyed him from the passenger seat with the deepest suspicion.

"Are we stopping to admire the view?"

"Nope, we're stopping to change it. Can you get out of the car please, it makes this easier? Now hold still..." Producing his wand, Harry walked around her for several minutes, muttering under his breath. Natasha was unaware of any effect beyond a mild tingling sensation until the world around her moved in an unexpected way.

Turning she stared at Harry, eyes wide. "Did you just make me _taller_?"

He nodded absently, like a painter with a portrait, finally stepping back with a nod. "You'll do" He gestured towards the car window. "What do you think?"

She had seen some pretty weird stuff over the last few years thought Natasha, but nothing stranger than looking at her shadowy reflection in the car window, and seeing a complete stranger looking back at her. She was taller by about three inches, older – maybe early forties. Her body was still fit, but thinner, more boyish than her usual curves. Light brown hair streaked with blonde hung straight to her jaw, framing her face which was longer thinner, with high cheekbones and dark brown eyes. Not even facial recognition would identify her as the Black Widow. Fascinated, she looked up to realise that Harry had done similar work on himself. He was older, shorter, stockier - only slightly above her new height, with thinning mid brown curly hair cropped short and grey eyes; even the car had changed colour model and registration in the few minutes that she had been distracted. Amazed, she shook her head, wide eyed.

"OK. _Now_ I'm impressed."

Harry shrugged. "It's basic Auror training really, although changing the car colour is a little harder as it's bigger and chemically more complicated than we are. Shall we go…"

Donnelly and Mason were still there when they arrived in Llanelwy, although the blue Ford had been replaced by a grey Volkswagen Harry noticed with a smile. They paid absolutely no attention to the older couple in the undistinguished car who were clearly tourists on holiday.

Natasha and Harry spent almost an hour scrutinising every inch of the cathedral interior, every carving, document and memorial with no success. Eventually Harry left Natasha in the Choir Stalls, reading a guide book she had bought from the small selection available, while he struck up a conversation with the guide, returning a while later looking irritated.

"You're never going to believe this..." he sank into the seat beside her, frustration written clear on his face. "There's nothing here at all that predates the thirteenth century destruction and subsequent rebuilding. Any records and documents that were salvaged are now in the cathedral archives in Chester.

"Chester? Didn't we drive past that on the way here?"

Harry nodded ruefully. "The bad news is that if we want to do any research, we'll have to make an appointment with the archivist first, and that can take ages if we're unlucky"

"So what's the good news?"

Harry held up a slip of paper. "They were able to give me a telephone number."

"Right" said Natasha taking the paper briskly. "Leave that with me. When we get to the car I'll call it in. I have contacts that can push through an appointment - hopefully for tomorrow, since I assume that this afternoon will be out of the question."

"We're getting nowhere fast with this" grumbled Harry crossly. I can't believe we're going back the way we came and we're still no closer to a question, let alone an answer". Natasha was rummaging in her bag, completely ignoring his sniping.

Back in the safety of the car, she pulled out her mobile. Harry frowned. "Won't Hydra be able to track your phone call?"

The SHIELD agent shook her head. "Normally – yes. But this is a Starkphone - with Tony Stark's personal modifications. _No-one_ can track this phone except Jarvis."

"Jarvis?"

"Tony Stark's AI and right hand man. It pisses the hell out of Fury that even he can't track them - and believe me he's tried. They're special Avengers issue, so whenever SHIELD needs to track us they have to ask Stark..." She chuckled. "...and Stark won't do anything to oblige Fury if he can help it."

Even for a wizard, that name was familiar. "Stark? Isn't he..?."

"...Iron Man. Yes."

"Wow. Of course. You're the one they call The Black Widow. I remember seeing the pictures of New York"

"Harry"

"Yes?"

"If you mention the catsuit I really am going to kill you. And wipe that grin off your face for the love of God."

ooo0ooo

They checked into a nondescript privately run hotel on the outskirts of Chester. Harry scanned the grubby looking dinner menu dubiously and wisely decided that it might be time to introduce the former KGB agent to a great British tradition.

"I have had fish and chips before you know." Natasha peeled the paper wrapping open dubiously. "Don't they normally come on a plate?"

Harry bit appreciatively into a chip drenched in salt and vinegar. "If you've never sat on a park bench and eaten them out of the paper than you've never had fish and chips. Don't wait, they'll get cold."

By now they were back in their normal forms, and Harry tried very hard not to be put off by the sight of Natasha's perfect lips wrapped appreciatively around a chip. Seeing her eyebrow quirk in amusement, Harry dragged his attention back to his meal, unaware that the lovely Russian's eyes had lingered on him almost as long. They had finished, and were walking back to the car, wiping the last of the salt and vinegar from their fingers with Harry's handkerchief when he suddenly became that she was now longer listening to him.

"Are you al...?" he trailed off into silence as she pulled him close, hands clutching his jacket, lips brushing his, just enough to send his pulse racing, turning him so that he had his back to the trees, shielding them both.

"Shh. Don't look now but we're being watched."

Harry cursed softly under his breath, as he wrapped his arms around her, playing along. " _Fuck_ I knew I should have disguised us again. HYDRA?"

She nodded, almost imperceptibly, her breath whispering across his skin as she spoke. "I'll deal with it. We just walk back to the car as planned. If it is Donnelly, and I'm pretty sure that Mason won't ruin her shoes skulking in the bushes if she can help it, then he and I need to have a little chat. Just follow my lead."

It was Harry's first instinct to protest, that he was more than capable of taking care of himself and her, but he was talking to the Black Widow after all, so he leaned down, dropping a kiss on the point of her jaw as he breathed in her ear. "OK"

Arms around one another, her head against his shoulder they ambled slowly back toward the car. The approach to the gates in the high wall which surrounded the park, was through an avenue of towering lime trees which cast pools of deep darkness across the already shaded path. Just before they reached the gates Natasha ducked silently from under his arm, melting into the darkness. Harry was careful not to break stride, turning right out of the gate, down the poorly lit street, careful to stick to the shadows, to make it as hard as possible for Donnelly to realise that he was now alone. Behind him he could hear stealthy, male footsteps, then a sharp scuffle. If he hadn't been listening carefully, he thought, he would never even have noticed it. Then there was silence. Harry slid back into the shadows, ears straining for a clue as to what was going on, but there was nothing, and the street behind him was deserted. Careful not to draw attention to himself, he slid quietly back around the gate back the park, wand in hand, every sense alert.

A little to his left, out of sight of the main pathway he could hear the muffled sounds of a struggle. Drawing carefully closer, Harry's eyes widened as they gradually became accustomed to the darkness. A large figure was lying, face down on the floor, pinned very effectively by Natasha. The figures' hands were cable tied tightly behind his back and the Russian was straddling his shoulders, hands on the back of Donnelly's neck. Harry realised that the strange noises were actually the American's efforts to breath, Natasha had him face down in a very muddy puddle.

Harry leaned casually against a tree, watching from a distance. "Err, we don't waterboard people in this country you know."

Natasha looked up at him briefly, scowling at the distraction. "I'm here with the permission of your authorities, to do whatever needs to be done to stop these people. _You_ need to go back to the car and leave this to me."

Harry shook his head "Nope. Not going to happen. Beside, there are much easier ways to get what you need."

"Oh really" Donnelly was thrashing like a gutted fish, but had managed to get his head just far enough out of the puddle to catch a choking, spluttering breath that made Harry wince. With a jerk, his head was pushed ruthlessly back under. "Well I was kind've having fun here, but I'd be open to suggestions. If someone calls the police on me it'll mean a lot of explanations."

Harry took a quick look around before raising his wand. "OK, but keep still, I don't want to petrify you too. _Petrificus totallus!"_ There was a flash of light and the heaving body was suddenly still and rigid. Mindful of the fact that Donnelly still had his face in the water Harry didn't hang about. Gesturing to Natasha to stand up, he followed up with _"wingardium leviosa"_ carefully levitating Donnelly into the darkness, securing him very firmly against the foot of a tree.

Natasha was still looking irritable, but reluctantly impressed. "So what do we do now? Make him a cup of tea, have a nice little chat"

Harry pulled a small glass vial out of this pocket. "Something like that. That was an incredibly impressive take-down by the way, but there's no need to make this harder work than it has to be." Bending, he dropped three drops into Donnelly's open mouth.

"What the hell is that?"

" _Veritaserum_. The most powerful truth potion in existence. Give him a minute for it to take effect and he'll sing like a canary."

"Seriously? Do me a favour - don't let Fury get so much of a whiff of that stuff or I'll be out of a job."

"Oh trust me. No one gets this stuff, it's highly restricted. Now, let's see if he's ready to be a little more cooperative." With a flick of his wand he lifted the body bind on Donnelly who was now relaxed and smiling, his eyes slightly unfocused. Pulling out his handkerchief he wiped the muddy water from his face. "Now, Mr Donnelly, are you feeling better?"

The boxer's face worked momentarily as he fought the effects of the spell, but he had no chance. "N..nnngh ... _yes!"_ he spat.

"There now, that wasn't so bad was it?" Harry sat back on his heels thoughtfully, face bland, voice chatty and pleasant. They might have been discussing the weather. "So, you are Patrick Liam Donnelly from New York. Can you tell me who you are currently working for?"

He fought it, he really tried, they could see it in the congestion in his face and throat, and the rigidity of his shoulders, but better men than him had been beaten by _veritaserum_ before.

"...H.. HYDRA"

"Excellent. And your partner?"

Donnelly gave up. "Mason..." he muttered "... Imogen Mason"

Behind them, Natasha huffed irritably. "This is all very impressive Harry, but can we ask him something we _don't_ know for a change?"

Harry smiled, utterly unruffled by her impatience. "OK Pat, lets notch it up shall we. Why are you spying on us?"

"Orders - from New York Office"

"That's good Pat, you're doing really well. So what were those orders?"

"Observe and report only"

"Why?"

"Didn't tell me."

"Who didn't tell you Pat"

"Commander Johnson. New York Office. Sonnofabitch!"

"Sounds like a real peach Pat. Now what is it you're looking for?"

"Didn't tell me"

"Come on Pat, they must have told you why they needed us followed?"

"Nope. Just muscle for hire. Don't know can't tell. S'how they work"

"How do we find this Johnson?"

"Don't know. Contacts me. Meet in Central Park... Like Central Park"

Behind him, he heard Natasha curse fluently in Russian. "Harry, we're wasting our time. The Central Park tip off could be useful if we can catch them meeting on CCTV, but he clearly knows nothing useful to us. It's time to finish this."

Harry turned to see her approaching determinedly, knife in hand. The warm snarky woman he had spent the last few days with was gone. The woman in front of him was colder than a Hogwarts winter, and just as hard.

"No Natasha. Just... no. We don't need to kill him"

"Harry. You know who this is and what he's capable of."

"Oh yes. Don't get me wrong, I'm not being sentimental, just practical. If you kill him they'll know for certain that we're onto them."

"So what? You're just going to let him go, let him tell Hydra all about who you are and what you can do?"

He shook his head. "Just watch... " He put his wand to Donnelly's temple, noting the fear in his eyes with grim satisfaction, even when he was under the lingering influence of the _veritaserum._ "We just hit the rewind button. _Obliviate"_

Donnelly's eyes glazed over and he slumped to one side. Straightening up, stretching, Harry released his bonds, bending to mutter a further charm into his ear. Silvery mist slid from the end of the wand, into Donnelly's temple.

"Come on, lets get out of here"

They strolled as unobtrusively as possible out of the park, seeing no one as they left. Neither spoke until they were back in the car.

"So what exactly did you do to him?"

"Nothing very..." whatever he was about to say was interrupted when Natasha's phone went off.

"Ah. Hello Jarvis – I should warn you that you are on speaker."

"Good evening Miss Romanoff, I trust that you are enjoying the United Kingdom. Good evening to you too Mr Potter."

Harry frowned, confused. He had been given to understand that Jarvis was an AI, but this sounded more like an English Professor, or the kind of butler he had seen in black and white films. "Good evening Jarvis"

"I am delighted to say that I have been in touch with the archive curator at Chester Cathedral, a charming woman who goes by the name of Annabel Lee. She will be happy to see you tomorrow morning at 10.30am. I took the liberty of giving your names as Mr and Mrs Rogers. You are investigating some papers found in Mrs Rogers' sadly deceased great uncle's home"

"Perfect." Reaching into her pocket, she removed a mobile that Harry hadn't seen before. Deftly shucking the back she slipped the SIM out, and inserted it into an additional slot in her own phone. "Jarvis, I'm sending you some information from Donnelly's cellphone. See what you can make of it. If there's anything of interest you might want to pass it on to Fury."

"Leave it with me Miss Romanoff, the first of the data is coming through."

"Thank you Jarvis. That's great."

"It was my pleasure Miss Romanoff. And you might wish to remember an umbrella tomorrow morning – there is an 87% chance of rain in Chester before noon."

"What would I do without you Jarvis. Be good"

"Be careful Miss Romanoff. Goodbye Mr Potter."

"Err. Goodbye Jarvis, it's been a pleasure"

She tucked the phone back in her pocket, smiling at Harry's expression.

"What?"

"I thought you said he was a computer?"

Natasha looked positively scandalised. "A _computer?_ Describing Jarvis as a computer is like describing you as a street corner conjurer. Jarvis is Tony Stark's greatest creation, an Artificial Intelligence so sophisticated that the only thing he lacks is a human body. He literally runs Tony's life, his various homes, his suits and even his cars. His is also the seventh avenger, since these days he pretty much runs our lives too, not to mention running mission control for us."

Harry shook his head, amazed. "I would never have guessed I wasn't talking to a human being."

"Precisely. Annabelle Lee will remember speaking to a particularly charming English gentleman, and there will be no record anywhere of the conversation. Knowing Jarvis I wouldn't be at all surprised if I end up with her private number for him to call her. He can be very smooth when he needs to be. And if he managed to get us an appointment for tomorrow morning he must have been very smooth indeed. Come on let's go. Our particularly lumpy looking bed awaits us."

They parked the car a little way from the hotel and walked back past rows of Victorian town houses. Just as they were opening the gate Natasha paused. "I'd forgotten, we got sidetracked by Jarvis' calling. What _did_ you do to Donnelly?"

Harry shook his head. "Nothing serious. I just removed his memories of finding us tonight, and implanted a memory of him getting fed up, buying a bottle of vodka and getting paralytic. He'll even have a hangover in the morning."

"You _changed_ his memories?"

Harry caught her horrified expression and scowled _. "_ Oh right. And instead I should have let you cut his throat, which would have been _so_ much better."

Natasha's face was stony. They spent the rest of the night in uncomfortable silence.


	4. Chapter 4

_This chapter goes with a shout out to El Marquis, who got me thinking about how a certain piece of paper had survived Henry VIII, the dissolution of the monasteries and a couple of civil wars; and who has tried to keep me on the historical straight and narrow... many thanks my friend..._

 _Thank you all for your continued support for this story. Chapter twelve is putting up a serious fight at the moment, so your encouragement is particularly appreciated._

 _As always, I don't own either Marvel or JKR's characters, but I do enjoy playing fast and loose with them (although not half as fast and loose as I will be in a couple of chapters...)_

 _Enjoy._

 _Merrick x_

* * *

After an uncomfortable night Natasha and Harry checked out of their hotel and drove back into the historic city centre. As they pulled into a parking space Harry turned to look squarely at Natasha.

"OK, what is it that I did last night that upset you so much? I may have been a bit snippy about it, but honestly, killing him was not exactly a good option."

Natasha shook her head, climbing out of the car, her face still hard. "Leave it Harry, it's nothing" She stopped, looking around, getting her bearings.

"No, Tash, it isn't nothing. We're in this together. If you have an issue with what I did, you need to tell me"

Natasha said nothing for a moment, watching the clouds scudding across the grey sky. Harry waited patiently. "The people I used to work for a long time ago had a nasty line in mind control, and they weren't too fussy about how they used it and who they used it on." She turned to him, face raw and open for once. "I know what it is to have your head taken apart and put back together. When I got to America I hoped that was the last I'd seen of it. Then a few years ago - in New York. A very good friend had his mind totally taken over by an - alien force - using some kind of scepter. This - force - made my friend kill for him, kill people on our side, innocent civilians. It took my friend a long time to get over it... in fact I'm not sure if he _is_ over it, even now." She shook herself, looking Harry in the eye for the first time that morning. "I have a big problem with messing with people's minds, even when its the bad guys we're doing it to... it just..." she shrugged "...even when it's as an alternative to killing them... sometimes the... more final option seems... cleaner somehow."

Harry watched her for a moment, remembering the number of times he had "modified" memories. To preserve their secret, to make his life easier, to enable a mission... right back to that muttered " _imperio"_ from under his invisibility cloak in Gringott's Bank. To be sure , their cause had been desperate on that occasion, but he'd never really stopped to imagine how that might feel - to be on the receiving end. And how Natasha would react to knowing that he could not only affect memories, as he had last night, but take over a person's mind, turn them into his puppet should he choose to. Coming to a decision, he took a deep breath.

"Come on" said Harry, taking her elbow lightly,"let's go and find somewhere for breakfast. If nothing else I'm ready to kill for a decent cup of coffee." They walked for a few minutes, before Harry paused, looking straight at her. "You need to know that I could do that to... if I wanted... needed to... take over someone's mind that is. I could... but I don't. And even if I wanted to, there are laws to stop me. We call them 'Unforgivable Curses'. The penalties for using them could be... severe, even for someone in my position"

"So what you did yesterday?"

"Is allowed... We refer to it as "memory modification"..." Seeing her expression, he pulled a face. "It's a euphemism, I know... I removed a small section of memory, just the last hour or so, and replaced it with something that would account for the reason that he woke up in the park this morning feeling like shit. Believe me, leaving the gap would have been much, much crueller."

She nodded. "I understand I think. But honestly, even knowing that you seem to be quite an ... ethical wizard... more ethical than me if I'm being honest... it still freaks me out."

Harry nodded. "Fair enough. I can't promise I won't do it again, but I _will_ try to avoid it if I can." Harry peered down a narrow side street that led to the cathedral, nose catching the enticing scents of coffee, warm bread and bacon. "Come on, this smells promising..."

ooo0ooo

By the time they had finished an excellent breakfast the tension between them had dissipated. Leaving the cafe, Harry and Natasha headed for the Cathedral's administrative offices, where they were to meet Annabel Lee. Today Harry was older, with heavy framed glasses, his straight hair an undistinguished shade of brown, turning grey at the temples. Natasha – or Nicola Rogers as she was that day – was, like Harry, about twenty years older, plumper, her obviously tinted blonde hair coiled in a respectable bun in the nape of her neck. In contrast to Harry and Natasha's homely appearance, Annabel Lee was a tall elegant woman in her mid-thirties. In her expensive looking trouser suit and heels she looked surprisingly glamorous for the simple homely building in the Cathedral precinct.

"Mr and Mrs Rogers, how nice to meet you."

Harry shook her hand. "Thank you for seeing us at such short notice Ms Lee. We appreciate how busy you are."

The Archivist smiled warmly. "Call me Annabel, please, and yes, my parents _were_ fans of Edgar Allan Poe, it took me a while, but I'm over it. I understand from your colleague Mr Jarvis that you will only be in Chester for a few days. Come up to my office and we will discuss what you are looking for. Can I offer you a drink? Tea, coffee?"

"Tea would be lovely, thank you"

A few minutes saw them comfortably seated in Annabel Lee's office, which was surprisingly sparse, almost minimalist when compared to the carved stonework and stained glass that housed it. Annabelle saw Natasha looking around with some surprise and smiled.

"Don't tell me. You were expecting dust and piles of old books?"

Natasha smiled back a little awkwardly. "Yes – I suppose so."

"Believe me, I spend enough of my days up to my neck in dust and books without bringing it into my office. Beside..." she tapped her sleek, expensive looking laptop affectionately "... these days almost everything I need is in here. We may not even have to put the white gloves on." She looked up as the door opened. "Ah, thanks Sarah."

A girl in her late teens shuffled in carrying a tray of tea, lip clamped firmly between her teeth in concentration. When her burden was placed safely on the desk she relaxed visibly. "I thought you might like some biscuits Miss Lee. I found the lemon ones you like."

"Thank you Sarah, that's lovely. Would you mind closing the door on the way out please."

Sarah escaped with evident relief. "Our new trainee..." commented Annabel with a smile as the door clicked shut. "A good girl, hardworking and very willing, but she has a tendency to be clumsy so we're keeping her away from anything valuable, or potentially breakable for the time being."

When they were settled with tea and biscuits, which were indeed delicious thought Harry, making a mental note to find out where they got them from, Natasha rummaged in her capacious handbag.

"We were hoping you might be able to help us with a curious reference that we found in some of my late great uncle's papers. We have already tried St Asaph, but they sent us to you."

"Ah yes. Mr Jarvis said that your Uncle was an enthusiastic amateur historian. The St Asaph files have an interesting history of their own, did you know? Following the thirteenth century destruction, a chest of documents was salvaged and spent centuries in a nearby manor house, concealed in a secret compartment, built into a wall. When the house was extended in the eighteenth century the wall was taken down to allow access into a new wing and the box was discovered. The owner of the house at the time - an merchant by the name of Turner - had connections to the cathedral here at Chester, and decided to gift the chest and its contents to our library. Unfortunately the head librarian at the time - a man of fervent anti-Catholic tendencies - was less impressed by the gift, and had it stowed away into the far reaches of our archives, where it remained under the cover of dust, cobwebs and some _seriously_ unpleasant spiders, until it was unearthed in a big clear out ten years ago. It was quite a find I can tell you." As she was talking, Annabel was logging into her laptop, finally looking up with a bright smile. "Now... What reference are you looking for?"

Natasha handed her a scrap of paper. "Caron of Llanelwy 596."

"And you believe that the 596 may be a date?"

Natasha nodded. "In the context of his other notes, yes, we believe so."

Annabel was typing busily as they spoke. "Bear with me. The entire archive - what little there was - is scanned and cataloged, with any luck we can pick this up through a keyword... ah-ha."

Harry and Natasha leaned forward eagerly. "You've found something?"

Annabel nodded. "Actually I've found several somethings. From the very earliest pages of the Llanelwy records." She beckoned them to stand behind her, looking over her shoulder. "I can print you a translation of the text if that helps."

"That would be very helpful, thank you". Harry noted that Natasha had completely inhabited the character of the slightly dowdy, middle aged Nicola Rogers without any effort. There was no sign of the glamorous Russian who's company he had enjoyed over the last few days. She truly was a consummate professional.

Annabel Lee was explaining the first document. "This is a record of the admittance of one Alun of Caerfyrddin, in faith, Brother Caron, in the spring of 579 as postulant choir monk, aged approximately thirty two years. You're very fortunate that we have the time period you're looking for, only two of these journals survived. Hmm this is interesting..."

"Go on"

"He gives he profession as soldier and scholar, and he brings a gift of 12 gold coins."

Natasha frowned. "Is that all?"

Annabel chuckled. "You are mistaken Mrs Rogers..."

"Oh, Nicola please dear"

"Nicola. In those days that was more than an ordinary soldier would earn in a lifetime. Most would never see a gold coin at all. Clearly this man is educated – he describes himself as a scholar, and he would have had his scholarship examined before he could have been admitted as a choir monk. The uneducated would join as Lay Brothers, doing the heavy every day labour. The work was hard, but they generally lived better than they would have in the secular world. There is no note of his being of noble birth, otherwise there would be reference to him being the son of such and such a knight, or of the manor of something or another, so with money like that he probably had wealthy sponsorship - unless he stole it of course, but we'll give him the benefit of the doubt shall we?" She hit a button on her keyboard and a nearby printer sprang to life. "Let's see what else we have"

A number of links were clicked, then she gave a small crow of triumph. "Oh this is wonderful. I have a link here to a scrap of parchment found tucked in a book of hours. Let me look"

"A book of what?"

"A book of hours. An illuminated medieval book of prayers."

"I see"

"Wait I have it. Oh. Well he's definitely educated. It's a personal document, but the hand, and the Latin are spot on. Just bear with me for a minute..."

They sipped their tea in silence, Natasha examining an exquisite watercolour of a corner of Chester Cathedral, while the Archivist pored over her screen, muttering under her breath, typing furiously. After about ten minutes, she hit her print button triumphantly.

"Sorry about that. It was clearly written by the man himself, and by the sound of it he wasn't in very good shape when he wrote it. You can read the whole text yourself at your leisure, but basically the first section is the usual notes about his impending death and his hope of salvation. Then he refers to his old master, and his fears that he will not meet him in heaven. But it's the last section that really gets interesting...

 _I pray that my master knows that I did not fail him. That the great treasure that he entrusted to me, the source of all of his mighty power, was bestowed on the isle which was so sacred to his people, to lie in safety, watched over by the guardian spirits of the slain, for I tremble for the fate of this world, should such terrible power fall into the hands of the evil doer_..."

For a moment no one in the room moved. Natasha and Harry's eyes met...

As the silence stretched, Annabel started to look uncomfortable. "Oh my goodness" gasped Natasha, slipping back into character, looking genuinely alarmed. "What on earth did Uncle Dennis think he was looking for? It is interesting though. Could it refer to the grail legend do you think?"

Annabel shook her head looking bewildered. "I have absolutely no idea. There is one further note here. _Taken to our Lord on the feast of his Nativity 596, Brother Caron late of this house._ requiescat in pace _._ So his death really was imminent."

She leaned back in her chair, eyeing them cautiously. "Just what exactly was your great uncle's interest in this? How did he come by these papers?"

Harry murmured a conventional response about pack rats and compulsive hoarders before glancing at his watch as he rose to his feet. "Thank you Miss Lee, we have taken more than enough of your time already, you have been more than helpful. How much do we owe you?"

"Nothing at all Mr Rogers. However... there is a donation box in the lobby..."

"Of course. We would be happy to make a donation. Thank you very much."

Annabel slipped the translated documents into a brown envelope which Natasha stowed in her bag with a smile of thanks. While Harry busied himself with the donation box in the lobby, Annabel – looking a little uncomfortable - took Natasha to one side for a moment...

When they stepped out into the street, Natasha smiled smugly. "I told you so," she flicked a square of white card under Harry's nose "Annabel's phone number – for Mr Jarvis – if he's interested. Speaking of Jarvis I don't think that Annabel will talk, without causing a lot of fuss, but it would be easy for HYDRA to hack her files. I need to get out of sight to make a call."

"I thought you said they couldn't track your phone?"

"They can't. But if they do happen to be watching somewhere, see me make a call and realise they can't track it, that's even more of a giveaway."

Harry nodded. "Back to the cafe then. They had a toilet at the back that you can use. Who are you phoning?"

"Jarvis. He needs to hack into the cathedral archives and remove all evidence of the search and the main document. They can see the day to day stuff, it's the hand written note that we need to disappear. Whatever it is we're looking for, that's the key. I'm sure of it."

Harry looked quite shocked. "You can't do that just delete the record of an historic document from someone's computer system!"

Natasha's eyes slid sideways. "You want to bet on that Mr Magic Man? And we'd better hurry"

"Why?"

"Jarvis was right, it's raining, and I left my umbrella in the car"

ooo0ooo

Natasha's call to Jarvis was quick and to the point. Once she had emerged to find Harry clutching two take away coffees. As they left, Harry took a quick glance down the sidestreet, leading back to the cathedral.

Natasha took an appreciative sip of her coffee. "Everything alright?"

"While you were calling Jarvis, you'll never guess who hurried past the cafe?"

"Our mutual friends - I guess it wasn't a huge leap of deduction that we would come to visit the cathedral. We need to get out of here."

Heading back into the city, Natasha and Harry left as quickly as they could, not wishing to risk another encounter with the HYDRA agents, especially as their disguises were starting to wear off. Returning to the car by a circuitous route to ensure that they weren't followed, Natasha climbed into the driver's seat, but looked around in confusion when, rather than getting in, Harry opened the boot, removing their bags.

"Harry?"

He looked around at the secluded parking space, muttering something under his breath. "Are you particularly attached to this car?"

She shook her head. "It's just a piece of junk I picked up when I arrived here. A cash purchase is easier to hide than a rental. Jarvis handles the paperwork."

"Good, you'd best get out then."

"What are you... oh my God!" With a flick of his wand, Harry had transfigured the car into a rusty shopping trolley.

"Just to be on the safe side. With the car gone they'll be busy looking for that rather than us."

"But what if someone saw you do ... that… and that too?" Harry had his wand in his hand, muttering something over his bag. To her shock he casually stuffed her larger bag into his ridiculously small rucksack, making her look around nervously. "Isn't this all a bit… well… public"

Harry shook his head. "Notice me not spell – even if someone was around they would find something else, far more interesting than us to look at."

Natasha nodded slowly, looking at the tall green eyed wizard with respect. "OK. I admit I'm impressed… again. Where do we go now though?"

"We need to consult with a very old friend." He held out his hand to her. "You'll need to come a bit closer for this I'm afraid. Now hold tight... and whatever you do . Don't. Let. Go."

Shrugging his rucksack onto his shoulder, he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her body hard against his.

"Harry!" Not that it was an unpleasant experience thought Natasha, allowing herself a moment to appreciate his height, the hidden strength in the arm around her waist, and the sudden rush of heat in the green eyes, but still... The low voice in her ear, and the tickle of his breath against her skin did nothing to help her leaping pulse rate...

"Hold tight"

Then everything turned inwards on itself, and she screamed.

ooo0ooo

When Natasha finally felt solid ground beneath her feet once more she tried to open her eyes but everything spun horribly, making her stomach lurch.

"Easy now. It's a bit of a shock the first time. Take a deep breath, you'll be OK in a minute." She could feel the softness of Harry's sweater beneath her cheek and thought that she should probably step away, but the urge to hold on to him a little longer was overwhelming.

"What the fuck was that?"

Her eyes were still closed, but she could hear the amusement in his voice. "Apparition. I suppose it's what you muggles would call teleportation. Instantaneous magical place to place transportation, it takes a little getting used to"

"No shit..." Gathering herself together, she finally stepped away, seeing amusement and concern warring on his face.

"Feeling better?"

She returned his smile, a little weakly. "I no longer think I'm going to vomit all over your shoes if that helps"

Harry chuckled. "And for that I thank you. I'm quite fond of these boots."

Natasha looked around at her new surroundings. Whoever owned this house must be a serious reader she thought inconsequentially; they were in someone's private library, old fashioned and comfortable, with big comfortable looking sofas and an open fireplace. A large oak worktable stood in front of a window that looked out onto a small garden and everywhere there were piles of books.

"Where are we?"

Harry smiled. "I'm placing a great deal of trust in bringing you here you know Agent Romanoff. Only a few close friends get an invitation. This is number 12 Grimmauld Place London. Welcome to my home."

ooo0ooo

Natasha sat at the small table in Harry's kitchen, sipping a glass of water and watching him preparing lunch. It felt oddly comfortable, oddly domestic she thought, not something she was used to. It was a pleasant kitchen, long and narrow but well fitted out with sleek modern units in dark wood, a heavy slate worktop and chrome fixings. It had all the essential gadgets, whilst avoiding the usual clinical austerity of your average bachelor pad. "Nice place. The magical world must pay better than ours"

Harry shook his head, slicing bread industriously. "I was lucky. I inherited it from my Godfather. Needed a _lot_ of work, I had to go through the place from top to bottom, but I like it now. It's too big for one person really, but it was Sirius's you know, there was no way I could just let it fall down."

"He was important to you?"

Harry nodded, producing sandwich fillings from the capacious refrigerator. "My parents were killed when I was a year old. I was raised by my aunt and uncle." Natasha didn't need to ask how that had gone, the expression on his face said it all.

"What happened to your Godfather?"

Harry's face closed suddenly, eyes dark and sad. "He was in prison for most of my life - for something he didn't do. He escaped and got in touch when I was thirteen. From then he was the only adult on my side that didn't have an ulterior motive, right up to the point when he was killed when I was fifteen. I saw it – in fact for a long time I believed that I caused it" Harry put two side plates, and a platter of sandwiches in the middle of the table. "I'm sorry, I'm being maudlin. Is coffee alright? It's only instant I'm afraid"

"I'm sorry. About your Godfather. That must have been tough, and yes, coffee is fine, thank you."

Harry put two mugs of coffee, milk and sugar on the table, making a conscious effort to dispel the shadow of Sirius's death. "It's not much I'm afraid, maybe we should have eaten out."

Natasha took a big bite of her first sandwich. "No, this is good, thank you. Real bread, salad and ... everything. I'm impressed."

Harry laughed. "A plate of sandwiches is no great achievement you know."

"You'd be surprised. At home Cap is a good cook, if a bit limited, and with no understanding whatsoever about modern healthy eating; but the others are hopeless. Tony and Clint can just about manage toast and coffee at a push and the last time Thor tried to cook anything it took Jarvis three weeks to get the kitchen back into working order. It wasn't pretty." She smiled, reaching for another sandwich. "It's a little known secret, but Earth's Mightiest Heroes have a _lot_ of takeaway menus on their fridge door."

Harry shook his head. "Amazing. Captain America, Iron Man, Hawkeye and the Norse God of Thunder all in one breath – remind me _never_ to get into a name dropping competition with you."

"Oh believe me, they lose their glamour real fast when you see them first thing in the morning in their boxer shorts with their hair on end." She looked beadily at him over her coffee mug. "Now you come to mention it, has anyone ever told you that you bear a striking resemblance to Thor's psychotic little brother?"

Harry choked on his coffee. "I'm sorry. Loki? The guy with the...?" he made a gesture alluding to horns. Natasha chuckled and nodded. "Well in spite of everything written about me by the Daily Prophet over the years, I'm pleased to say that I have no plans to take over the world anytime soon."

"I'm delighted to hear it… One psychotic wizard with pretty green eyes is more than enough trouble for anyone"

Harry's eyebrows shot up, as Natasha flushed, cursing her runaway tongue... "Why Agent Romanoff, you think I have pretty eyes?"

"So what happens next?"

"Nice deflection... I sent a quick message back to the Ministry before I made lunch. I'm just waiting for clearance for a Muggle Access Permit ... Give me a few more minutes and with a bit of luck we can get going. In the meantime, I'll show you your room so you can freshen up."

Like the library, the guest room was old fashioned but very comfortable with a huge brass bed and a generous en suite. Natasha looked around her with frank pleasure.

"I _like_ this hotel, we can stay here again. The catering's not bad either"

Harry loitering by the window, one eye on the sky, looked around , smiling. "It was my pleasure ma'am"

Natasha was just emerging from the en suite when a sharp tap came at the window. Harry looked relieved. "Ah-ha. It looks like we have our answer. " He threw open the window to admit an unobtrusive looking grey owl. To Natasha's surprise he removed a piece of paper from the pouch on the owl's leg, produced something from his pocket to reward the owl, then sat down at the dressing table chair to read his message.

"What _is_ this?"

"Message from the Ministry of Magic."

Natasha perched on the end of her bed, looking confused. "By owl?"

"The magical world doesn't have phones or computers. So that means no mobiles, no texts or emails. Instead we have owls."

" _You_ have a mobile"

"I do, but magic friendly technology is a relatively new thing, and it still doesn't react well to high concentrations of magic, the kind of thing you'd get in a work environment for example. Without the proper shielding, technology reacts to magical fields rather like it would to ... a strong magnetic field for example. "

She knelt up on the bed, leaning over to try to read the note over his shoulder. "So what's the message?"

Harry tried to focus on the paper in his hand, but he was acutely conscious of the lovely Russian agent who was now so close that he could feel her hair brushing his ear. The memory of how she had felt pressed against him when they had apparated earlier was too vivid for his peace of mind.

 _Focus Harry!_ He told himself sharply. _She's a colleague. This is a mission, not a bloody date!_

"What do you need permission for anyway?"

Harry shook himself, trying to focus. "I can't bring a muggle into a key warded magical location without official permission. This would normally have come back more quickly, but they would have had to send a message to Professor McGonagall first"

"He's the friend you want to speak to?"

"She, and no, not exactly. Professor McGonagall was my head of house when I was at school. We have our permission, and she's waiting for us so we'd better get going. There are rules though. We will only be allowed into the one room, and there will be no windows, so you won't be allowed to see anything of the school's location"

"Wait, we're going to a school?"

Harry smiled. "Yes, my school, and my first real home. You will need to leave your mobile and other gadgets here I'm afraid."

Natasha placed her bag on the bed, and quickly checked her pockets. "All clear". Her face dropped as realisation dawned. "Oh shit. Are we going to do that teleportation thing again? Because I don't think that's such a good idea on a full stomach."

Harry grinned and shook his head. "Nope, something different this time. The wards on the school won't allow apparition. This time we're going by floo"

"We're going to fly?"

"Not flew as in past tense. Floo as in chimney – fireplace."

"I'm confused..."

Harry held out his hand. "Come on... you'll be fine. But if you're leaving your bag behind, make sure we have the papers from this morning."

She patted her back pocket. "Got them". Without thinking she took his hand, allowing him to lead her back to the library fireplace.

"Now, normally we do this individually, but as you're a muggle and you've never done this before I can't risk you getting off at the wrong fireplace so I'm afraid there's only one thing for it. You're going to have to hold tight again."

"Really Mr Potter? I'm sure you're doing this deliberately" She pressed herself against him, arms around his neck. "Like this Mr Magic Man?" Her voice was soft and husky, her blue eyes teasing.

She saw his Adam's apple bob nervously as he took several deep breaths; looking down at her, smiling wryly. "Natasha Romanoff has anyone ever told you, you are a wicked, wicked woman. Yes, just like that." He put both arms around her waist, pulling her even closer, and for a moment Natasha was glad that, with her face buried in his shoulder, she could hide her own reaction to him so much more easily. "Now for the love of Merlin, don't let go."

There was a blinding flash of green fire and Harry shouted something as the flames enveloped them. But instead of the searing heat she expected Natasha found herself whirling through space with only Harry to cling on to. With her eyes tightly shut she didn't see the moment they pulled out, so the impact nearly sent her flying as they came to a sudden halt.

Once again the world, and her stomach, were spinning out of control. This time though, it was Harry that held her close, one arm around her waist, the other stroking her hair as she clung to him once again. "It's okay, just breath, it'll pass in a minute, just relax..." he murmured soothing nonsense against her hair until the tide of nausea passed.

 _This was nice,_ thought Natasha, a little woozily. _Nice to just be held like this, to allow herself to feel protected and comforted for once. She was so used to always being the strong one, the professional. Hard as nails Black Widow who used her body as easily as knife or gun, who used and discarded men and women as the mission demanded, never allowing anything as muddy as emotion to get in the way._

 _But this one – Harry – he was different. This wasn't about power, or revenge, or the mission. It wasn't about winning trust or acquiring information or gaining advantage; it was just about her, and Harry and the spark that had been there between them right from the start..._


	5. Chapter 5

A huge thank you to everyone that has been so kind and left me a review for this story... I want to try to reply to each one individually, but RL is a mare at the moment and I'm struggling to keep up with even writing this story, let alone anything else... but believe me, I read every single one, and I thank you all very much. It looks like this story is going to come around the fifteen chapter mark - the next couple will be more about the characters and their relationship before the case element kicks back in... just a warning that the story begins to earn its rating from this point - just a little for a start.

Thank you for reading, following and supporting this story... I'm really blown away. And for the record, I don't own either JKR or Marvel's characters, although I'm going to have a lot of fun with them in the next few chapters.

Merrick xx

* * *

 _This was nice,_ thought Natasha, a little woozily. _Nice to just be held like this, to allow herself to feel protected and comforted for once. She was so used to always being the strong one, the professional. Hard as nails Black Widow who used her body as easily as knife or gun, who used and discarded men and women as the mission demanded, never allowing anything as muddy as emotion to get in the way._

 _But this one – Harry – he was different. This wasn't about power, or revenge, or the mission. It wasn't about winning trust or acquiring information or gaining advantage; it was just about her, and Harry and the spark that had been there between them right from the start..._

"Well Mr Potter, this is a pleasant surprise... is everything quite alright?"

Natasha was dragged back to reality by the sharp, precise Scottish voice behind her, Harry however, didn't move, continuing to hold her firmly.

"Bear with us a minute please Professor. Natasha is a muggle as you know and she's tried side along apparition and the floo network in only a few hours, it's a lot to take in in such a short space of time. She's feeling a little dizzy"

"Oh my goodness yes. Would you like some tea dear?"

Natasha nodded mutely.

"I'll leave you for a few minutes then and sort that out." Natasha heard a heavy door close, and breathed a sigh of relief as the silence returned, finally lifting her head, feeling Harry's hand slide down to rest warm and steady on the back of her neck, under her hair, his thumb tracing distracting little patterns on her skin. She found herself trapped in his gaze, her racing pulse not entirely down to the floo network.

"Natasha" his voice was deeper than she remembered. He tucked an errant lock of hair behind her ear. "Would now be a horribly inappropriate time to say that I really want to kiss you?"

She blinked. "No one's ever actually asked me before..." Never treated her like this, like she was a prize to be courted and won.

Harry ran a thumb over the sensitive skin at the point of her jaw, and Natasha's eyes fluttered shut in response for a moment, tilting her face up to his in unspoken invitation...

It was an invitation he was only too happy to accept, the hand on the back of her neck drawing her closer, brushing a kiss on the corner of her mouth. With soft sigh, Natasha turned her head to deepen the kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck...

"Oh my... do excuse me..."

The moment was lost as the Scottish voice returned bearing a tray of tea. Turning, a little flushed, Natasha came face to face with one of the most extraordinary people she had ever met. A tall thin woman, at least seventy years old, possibly older, dressed in long black robes, with a green tartan witches hat on her head. But in spite of her attire it was her face that caught Natasha's attention first. Razor sharp, not one to suffer fools gladly it struck her that this was not a woman she would wish to cross, but looking closer there was an underlying humour in the hazel eyes that was reassuring.

"Good afternoon to you both. Ms Romanoff – you are clearly feeling much better." Natasha blushed like a guilty schoolgirl and Harry did his best to conceal a grin at her discomfiture. There was something about the Headmistress of Hogwarts that busted even the most hard bitten right back to their schooldays. Natasha's normally inscrutable face was looking distinctly uncomfortable.

"Um... much better, thank you."

In the silence that followed, Harry realised that introductions were needed. "Oh... I'm sorry. Professor McGonagall, may I introduce Natasha Romanoff. Natasha is collaborating with the Ministry on a joint international magical / muggle operation. Unfortunately I can't tell you any more than that at the moment. Natasha, this is Professor McGonagall, my former head of house, now Headmistress of this school.

"It's a pleasure Ms Romanoff... I trust your... _collaboration..._ is proving successful". For once, Harry realised with a grin, Natasha Romanoff was lost for words.

Taking pity on them both, the Professor ushered them back to the fireplace, to a sofa and two armchairs, placing the tea tray on a convenient side table. As the Professor poured the tea, Natasha looked curiously around her. The room wasn't especially big, but had a very high ceiling with carved oak beams. Unusually - as Harry had said - there were no windows at eye level, only a number of long thin lancets, high in the walls, revealing nothing but an overcast sky. The room must be some kind of sitting room she thought, although it seemed odd that there was literally nothing else in the room beyond the chairs around the large fireplace, a table for the tea tray and what appeared to be a blank picture in an ornate frame over the fireplace.

Natasha sat on the sofa beside Harry, accepting her cup from the indomitable Professor. As they drank their tea they talked of this and that. Professor McGonagall updated Harry on events at the school, and made Natasha laugh with a number of anecdotes from Harry's youth. When they had finished, the Professor collected their cups and rose. "It has been a pleasure to meet you Natasha, I wish you all the very best for your endeavors; but I mustn't keep you any longer". Turning, she held out her arms to Harry. "Harry Potter it has been a pleasure as always. I know how busy you are, but please don't be a stranger, come to see us again soon." To Natasha's surprise, Harry happily hugged the elderly woman, who – Natasha's mouth fell open – flicked her fingers at the tray, which rose obediently from the table, and followed her out of the room.

"What kind of school is this?"

"A very unusual one my dear Ms Romanoff"

Harry thanked his lucky stars that UK law did not allow Natasha to carry a weapon, as her hand flew to her thigh, where her holster would normally be located. She was staring at the portrait over the mantelpiece, blue eyes as wide as saucers. Taking pity on her, Harry rested his hands on her shoulders. "Natasha Romanoff, can I introduce you to the person that we came to see. Professor Albus Dumbledore, my friend and mentor, and former Headmaster of this school."

Professor Dumbledore looked at Natasha with undisguised approval. "It is a pleasure to meet you Ms Romanoff. Harry, it is good to see you my friend, but please don't feel that you need to consult with me on some grave matter before you come to see me. A simple chat sometime would be equally welcome." Harry muttered something about the pressures of work, which made Natasha and the professor both smile. "Now, how can I help you today?"

It took Harry and Natasha some time to explain the full story to the former Headmaster who listened carefully, blue eyes keen over his half moon glasses. "This is interesting. This is very, very interesting." Professor Dumbledore summoned a large armchair, and seated himself comfortably to better consider the problem. "Ms Romanoff, would you mind reading the parchment once again please?"

Hesitating, Natasha reminded herself sternly that she was a professional . She had dealt with Hydra, the KGB, Nick Fury at his worst, aliens, psychotic Norse gods and rampaging green rage monsters. She could deal with floating tea trays and figures that wandered in and out of portraits dispensing wisdom and guidance. She retrieved a sheet of paper from the table.

" _Monastery of Saint Cynderyn, Llanelwy, North Wales_

 _The nights darken as this year of Our Lord 596 year draws to its close, and I know in my heart that I shall not live to see the birth of another. My life as a Choir Monk of this House is now over, and I spend my final days in the Infirmary among my brothers. Brother Athanasius, the Infirmarer has granted me the luxury of a small writing desk, and on that desk I write this, my final testament._

 _I have seen much in my long life, and in that time have been warrior, sinner, scholar, servant to those who walk with Kings and now, finally, Brother of this House, from whence I will set out upon my last journey when my time comes. I pray that God will look gently upon my sins, and receive me into his arms._

 _But I must confess that this dearest hope is also my greatest fear._

 _For if I am received into the arms of Our Lord, through the gates of Purgatory, how will I then see my old master again, for one such as he will never be received at the Gates of Saint Peter. Perhaps Our Lord will refuse my sinner's soul, and I will find my shade wandering freely with my old master and that brave company, sharing adventures as we had been wont to do, before he chose to follow his greatest friend and King into the shadowlands to await this land's greatest need._

 _If it is not my destiny to see him again, then I pray (and I hope the Good God will forgive such blasphemy) that my master knows that I did not fail him. That the great treasure that he entrusted to me, the source of all of his mighty power, was bestowed on the isle which was so sacred to his people, to lie in safety, watched over by the guardian spirits of the slain, for I tremble for the fate of this world, should such terrible power fall into the hands of the evil doer..."_

When she fell silent. Professor Dumbledore pondered his steepled fingers for several minutes. Natasha shifted restlessly, but Harry, used to the way the his old mentor worked, sat patiently.

"You say that this man – our writer – Brother Caron – joined the monastery at the prime of his life, presumably following the death or departure of his former master. It appears that at some point this master of his entrusted our writer with an artifact or artifacts of great power, which he has secreted in a very safe place."

"And we can assume that it is these artifacts that Hydra are looking for" Natasha shuffled the papers, pondering the mystery. "Especially if they are, as our he says ' _of terrible power'._

Professor Dumbledore gazed at them from over his glasses. "Well it's very kind of you to involve me in this, but I believe that between you, you know enough of this tale to piece it together without me."

Natasha looked up at Dumbledore. " _'Awaiting the land's greatest need'_ My knowledge of your mythology is sketchy, but to me that sounds like King Arthur, the Once and Future King." Natasha re-examined the translation for the umpteenth time.

Harry nodded. "It is possible. _Emrys_ is a name commonly associated with the Welsh legends of Merlin, friend of King Arthur. And a wizard of course. But there are other legends of great heroes sleeping until their country's greatest need; and as to what we're looking for, I have no idea."

Natasha rubbed her eyes, it was only mid-afternoon and it had already been a long day. " _A great treasure – a source of great power'_ I can't believe I'm about to say this, but we're not talking about the Holy Grail are we?"

Dumbledore polished his glasses. "It is possible of course, but unlikely. The Grail is no longer... how can I put it... up for grabs. It was found by one of my predecessors several centuries ago, and is far beyond the reach of the likes of HYDRA. It might be helpful to do some more detailed work to establish the identity of this Caron, and if possible to establish a link to Merlin. May I suggest, Mr Potter, that a visit to Branwen may be in order"

Harry rubbed his forehead, already anticipating a headache. "Professor, do you have any idea of the paperwork involved in taking a muggle to _the_ most important and secret magical site in Britain? I don't know if it's even _possible._ " He looked up at Natasha with a weary smile. "It appears that you might be my house guest for a few days at least Tash. This may take a while."

"Who is Branwen?"

Harry shook his head. "Believe it or not but we shouldn't even have mentioned her name in front of you. I certainly can't tell you anymore until I have official permission from the Ministry. It sounds ridiculous, but although I've been given a fair degree of leeway under the Statute of Secrecy, if I go too far I could end up in Azkaban."

"The wizarding prison" chipped in Professor Dumbledore. "Even now it's really not a nice place"

Natasha looked stunned. "Seriously. It's that - serious? You could be sent to prison?"

"Oh yes. The Statute of Secrecy is taken very seriously. Even with our powers there are far more of you than there are of us. Most muggles wouldn't see us as a threat, but it wouldn't take much to light the touchpaper and boom... Could be a terrible mess. Look at all the trouble in America with the whole mutant issue, and believe me, most muggles would be much more freaked out about magic than mutations."

Natasha thought of Bruce Banner and the murderous fury on the face of General Thaddeus Ross, and nodded. "Yes I suppose, thinking about it, it would be so much easier just to stay under the radar. If there's going to be a delay though, I'll need to check in with Fury – he's my boss" she added to Dumbledore by way of explanation.

Harry rose. "And I'd better get the paperwork filed with the Ministry today. You'll probably have to come in and meet Kingsley, 'cos he's the only one that's going to be able to make this happen if anyone can." He turned back to the Professor. "Thank you for your help Professor, will you please give our best wishes to Professor McGonagall, we need to be getting back". He reached for Natasha's hand, and she hung back reluctantly, pulling a face.

"Oh no. Not again..."

Professor Dumbledore chuckled. "Don't worry Ms Romanoff, you will find that you become accustomed to it in time."

Natasha took Harry's hand, and smiled straight up at the Professor, who's painted cheeks flushed, and he dropped his glasses. "Natasha, please Professor"

Dumbledore retrieved his glasses and cleared his throat noisily. "Why thank you my... N-Natasha. Harry, do please bring this delightful young lady back once the mystery is solved and let me know how it works out. I have no doubt that the two of you will once again be saving the world." He turned back to Natasha. "Goodbye my dear. It has been a pleasure."

Natasha slid straight into Harry's personal space, until barely a breath separated them. "I guess I'm riding shotgun again then Harry?"

He smiled slowly – that, and the heat in his green eyes did things to Natasha's pulse rate that no-one had done for a while – wrapping his arms securely around her waist. "It's a tough job Agent Romanoff, but I'm sure you've been trained for worse. Now hold tight."

Natasha wrapped her arms around his neck, resting her head against his shoulder. "I need to remember to wear heels when I'm with you. How tall _are_ you? I guess 6'2" like Cap."

Harry rested his cheek against her hair. "I don't know. I reckon we're a pretty good match. Which reminds me Agent Romanoff. Can I take you for dinner tonight?"

"Harry, we've had dinner together every night since we met.."

His scowl was almost... _almost_ convincing. "Natasha Romanoff. That wasn't what I meant and well you know it..."

She gave him her very _best_ smile. The one that was all sparkle and smolder and long thick eyelashes – she usually ended up wasting it on slimeball criminals, terrorists and foreign agents. It was fun to use it on someone she actually _liked_ for a change. "Mr Potter – are you asking me out on a _date?"_

Just before he stepped back into the floo, Harry looked back over his shoulder at the picture frame, which was blank – strange because he was sure he just heard a chuckle. "Professor Dumbledore, did you know it's rude to listen just outside the frame" He turned back to the lovely redhead in his arms. "Yes Natasha, I was asking you on a date"

Without waiting for a response, he shouted "Twelve Grimmauld Place" as they stepped back into the green flames.

When her head had stopped spinning, and the ground beneath her feet was stable again, she slid her hand onto the back of Harry's neck, drawing his face down to hers. "Yes" she murmured against his lips. "Yes Harry, I would love to go out to dinner with you".

 _This was good,_ thought Natasha, senses reeling as Harry lips finally found hers, teasing her until she surrendered, quickly losing all capacity to think coherently...

Much, much later when they were curled up on one of the sofa's, making out like a pair of teenagers, dazed and breathless, and hopelessly, helplessly turned on; it took all of Harry's willpower to finally break it off, to set Natasha slightly away from him, enchanted by the provocative pout in those gorgeous lips, even more so now than ever.

"Harry!"

He took a deep breath, trying desperately to be even slightly responsible. "I have to speak to Kingsley Shacklebolt, and you have to call your boss or we are going nowhere with this."

She wriggled against him, loving the way his eyes were blown so wide that almost all green had vanished, and the way the rigid line of his jaw betrayed his struggle to rein himself in. When he spoke, she loved the note of desperation in his voice even more. "Natasha, behave, _please_ \- have mercy... where you are concerned I have very honourable intentions, but..."

Natasha sighed dramatically. "Not _too_ honourable I hope Mr Potter. OK, you win. I'll go and update Fury, while you go and talk to your owls or whatever you magic types do." She looked at her watch. "It's 16.35, what time do you... _want_ me?"

Harry closed his eyes, resting his forehead against hers, as she sat astride his lap. "You test me woman you really do..." his voice dropped to a rough whisper as he pulled her closer, lips against her ear, making her nerves tingle "And as for my intentions... I ... want you... Natasha Romanoff... I want you stretched out naked on my bed. I want to spend hours..." he ran a single finger down her spine, and she arched against him, gripping his sweater, utterly caught in the spell of his words "... getting to know all of you... exploring every stunning inch of your body – one nerve ending at a time... until you can only writhe... and moan ... and _beg..._ but for now..." he rose abruptly, setting her firmly back on her feet. "...how does seven thirty suit you?"

"...Seven thirty's good." Natasha wished that her voice didn't sound so... breathless, so needy. She was the Black Widow, a professional. _She_ was the seducer, the enchantress with the deadly bite. Instead, this green eyed wizard with the strong arms and the _wicked_ mouth had reduced her to putty in his hands. She _should_ put him firmly in his place. She _should_ draw the line, pull herself together, and regain the upper hand, but she found now that there was no desire in her to do so, only to trust – to break the habit of a lifetime, to follow his lead and allow him to make good on his promises.

 _Trust_. Now there was a luxury she could rarely afford. There were those she trusted. Clint, Cap, Bruce, and once, long long ago, a tall dark haired, dark eyed man as damaged as herself, the one they had called the Winter Soldier. But she had been very different then. _Things_ had been very different then. Now she had choices, options. She could allow this to happen if she wanted to... this was not the KGB ... being the Black Widow, an Avenger did not preclude... this, whatever _this_ was...

"Tasha...?" Harry trailed a finger lightly down her cheek. "Are you alright. You zoned right out there for a moment. You were miles away."

She shook herself, smiling. "I'm fine. Go, talk to your Minister, be quick."

"Make yourself at home. Help yourself to whatever's in the kitchen. There should be more hot water for the bathrooms than even you need, and if you look in the cupboard under the sink in your ensuite you'll find towels and stuff."

Dropping a kiss onto her forehead, he pulled himself together, and headed back to the floo to do battle with Kingsley and the pen pushers.

ooo0ooo

Natasha's phone call had taken less time than she had anticipated. Fury had been in a meeting, so she had had a ten minute update with Coulson, before heading up to her room, where the siren call of the large brass bed had proved too much. Naps in the afternoon were never something she'd needed, but she and Harry had both slept badly at the hotel, what seemed like weeks ago, and, Natasha thought with a smile as she drifted off... with a bit of luck she wouldn't get much sleep tonight either.

She had slept a little longer than she had anticipated, so it was approaching seven twenty when Natasha stood in front of the mirror, eyeing her reflection critically. The black dress was one of her favourites. Ideal for travel, it rolled up into practically nothing in her bag, and always made her feel great. But she had packed in a hurry, and had failed to take into account the particular issues of this dress. While the skirt was a relatively demure two inches above the knee, the dress itself, with its thin shoestring straps, was almost as tight as her catsuit, and, unlike the catsuit's black leather, she had forgotten that the dress revealed the lines of _anything_ worn underneath it. With a shrug, Natasha came to a decision... A few minutes later, she gave a satisfied nod at her reflection, and putting on a pair of black heels, headed for the door, hearing Harry waiting for her in the hall below.

ooo0ooo

Harry took Natasha to a small muggle Italian Restaurant, five minutes' walk from Grimmauld Place. It felt pleasantly normal, thought Natasha, putting on a dress and heels, and holding a guy's hand on their way to dinner. It felt a long way from the Red Room, from Budapest, from superheroes, Gods and monsters.

"This is nice" Natasha chased a stray pomegranate seed from the antipasto salad they had shared as a starter. The Barolo in her glass was warm and smooth, and the smells coming from the kitchen were making her mouth water. "It feels like a ... normal date. Ordinary."

Harry's eyebrows rose. "Ordinary. I'm not sure how to take that."

Natasha played idly with the stem of her wine glass, watching the candle flame reflecting in the deep red depths before taking a sip. "No, ordinary is... good. I don't have much practice with ordinary."

"What about your childhood? How does a little red haired Russian girl end up roaming New York dressed in black leather. Which I love by the way. Please don't think I don't love the black leather. Because I really do."

She chuckled, and shook her head. You are hopeless, you know that? The truth is I _was_ an ordinary little Russian kid, keeping her head down and trying not to draw attention to her unfortunate surname."

"Your surname – ah. I see. You aren't...?"

"Related to _those_ Romanoff's. To be honest I don't know. My mother used to talk about it sometimes at night... when she was drunk. How she should have been a princess... had servants. Instead she had a dead end job in an office, a dingy one bedroom flat and a millstone around her neck."

"It was just the two of you?"

"She didn't talk about my father. Truthfully, I'm not certain she even knew who my father was. I worked hard, did well at school, had a talent for languages. On Saturday mornings I did ballet. I loved my ballet lessons."

Harry smiled, imagining an eight year old Natasha, red hair in a bun, in black leotard and tights. "I bet you were adorable"

"One day just after my tenth birthday, two strangers came to my school. They visited a few classrooms, talked to some of the students – always the girls. Then they appeared at my ballet class a few weeks later. It seemed strange, but I was a child. I didn't really worry about it. In fact I didn't think about it again until the letter came nearly a year later saying that I had been chosen for the Black Widow programme. Growing up in Communist Russia, my mother didn't question. Just packed me a suitcase, and that was that..."

Harry drew her hand away from the wine glass, playing idly with the tips of her fingers. "When we were walking around the cathedral, you said that your own mother wouldn't recognise you now... "

"That was the last time I saw her – the day she kissed me perfunctorily on the cheek and closed the door." For a moment all the years of sophistication and toughness peeled away and she bit her lip, eyes soft and hurt for the child she had still been then. "She didn't even look back – watch me walk away".

Harry's hand gripped hers firmly, thumb rubbing little circles on her knuckle, reassuring. "What happened?"

"Years later, when I was ... released... I went back to see her, but she was gone, and no one that lived there had any idea where she was. Two years ago I asked Jarvis to look into it. Apparently she died of liver failure just after my fifteenth birthday. Nobody bothered to tell me."

"I'm sorry"

"Don't be. I don't have children of my own, but... a friend does. They call me Aunty Nat. All I know is that I would rather die than allow what my mother did. To stand by and let those kids to be taken, to suffer, to be afraid or lonely or taken advantage of ..." She broke off, suddenly flustered, as the waiter arrived with their main course. "I'm sorry. I don't even know why I'm telling you this. I don't tell anyone… not even under torture. This dinner is supposed to be fun and I'm just ..." She took a mouthful of pasta and truffles with a moan of appreciation which almost pornographic. "Oh my God that is _incredible"_

Harry's eyes darkened. "As a wizard and a gentleman, I have to warn you that if you keep indicating your approval like that Ms Romanoff, I am going to be forced to take you home now… before dessert. And that would be a shame because the desserts here are amazing".

Natasha took another mouthful of pasta taking in a few leaves of rocket, and half a cherry tomato with it, closing her eyes for a moment with an air of rapt enjoyment that made Harry's breath catch. "That's a tempting offer Mr Potter" She rested her chin on her hand and fluttered her eyelashes shamelessly,"... but if I asked _very_ nicely, do you think that we could defer those unspeakable things you're clearly thinking of, until _after_ dessert."

Harry took her hand over the table. "Well, since you do ask so nicely. I suppose I _could_ attempt to restrain myself;" he smiled and shook his head. "Who knew that the Black Widow had a sweet tooth."

In the end they shared a generous portion of tiramisu, trading bites back and forth until there was just a smear of cream and some strawberry crowns left on the plate. Harry leaned forward, brushing a little cocoa from Natasha's lip, loving the way she leaned into his touch.

The waiter came forward to take their plate. "Would you care for coffee?"

Harry raised his eyebrow at Natasha, who shook her head slowly.

"Time to go home?"

"Time to go home..."


	6. Chapter 6

_Author's note… Warning… This is where this story starts to earn its M rating. In other words, here be smut… Lots and lots of smut. If this really truly offends you skip to the next chapter, you shouldn't have too much trouble picking it back up again._

 _To all those that are following this story (652 - Wow!) I thank you from the bottom of my heart. And a special thank you to all the lovely readers that have reviewed..._

 _I don't have any claim on Marvel or JKR's characters, and I sincerely apologise to them for the appalling liberties I am about to take with their characters..._

 _Enjoy. M x_

* * *

After dinner, they strolled home slowly, arms around one another. The night was chilly, and Natasha leaned closer into his side. Feeling her shiver, Harry rubbed his hand down her arm. "Are you cold?"

She shrugged. "I didn't think, I should have brought my jacket. Vanity really, the only one I have doesn't go with this outfit" she turned her head into his shoulder laughing. "Oh God that sounded so girly... What are you doing to me?" She shook her head. "It's fine, we're nearly home anyway."

Harry halted, slipping off his own jacket to wrap it around her shoulders. "Here, although it seems a shame to cover up that dress." He looked at her simple sleeveless black dress appreciatively. "Have I told you how utterly stunning you look – if I haven't then I apologise. You are, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman in London tonight"

 _It had been far too long,_ thought Natasha hazily, _since she had been held and kissed like this, without thinking about marks and targets, about missions and..._ Her eyes snapped open _. "_ Mission. Tell me… Update soldier!"

Harry gave a huff of irritation and glared into the plane tree above him as if it were personally responsible for their interrupted moment. " _Seriously_ Tasha. Now?" Seeing her look of determination he gave a martyred sigh. "OK, cliff notes version. I decided to do things properly for a change so I went to see the Statute Officers. As predicted, they threw up their hands, shrieked in horror and said not on your life. So I went to see the head of the Statute Office, who made a long and pacifying speech about my war record and the Saviour of the Wizarding World and all that..."

Natasha frowned at this – making a mental note to find out more about the "Saviour of the Wizarding World… later... "Then he said yes?"

"Then he too threw his hands in the air and said not a chance"

"How hard can this be?"

Harry shook his head. "You have no idea"

"So then what?"

"I did what I should've done in the first place. I went straight to the top. To Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister for Magic. It doesn't get any higher than Kingsley"

"When can you see him?"

Harry shrugged carelessly. "I saw him there and then. His PA deferred his appointment with the Muggle Prime Minister for half an hour"

Natasha's eyebrows nearly shot off the top of her head. "She deferred... Harry Potter you clearly have hidden depths that I look forward to exploring. That's a lot of clout you're swinging about... so what did he say?"

"Oh, he wants us to have coffee with him at 11am tomorrow."

"But do you think he'll say yes?"

Harry's smile was positively wicked. "Natasha. I'm Harry Potter. He'll make a fuss but he isn't going to say no to me…" His eyes took on that intense, slightly feral look that she was beginning to know well. " Now, where were we…?"

He was kissing her like a drowning man with oxygen, carefully backing her up, never breaking the kiss until she gasped as her back hit the trunk of the plane tree behind her. The feel of her through the thin fabric of her dress was intoxicating, and he was unable to resist slipping his hands under the coat, to the small of her back, pulling her so close that she seemed to be inside his skin. Leaving her lips for a moment, he pressed his attentions on a particularly sensitive spot just behind her ear, making her gasp and arch frantically against him..

"Oh God… _Harry…"_

The hand on the small of her back moved on downward over the taut glorious curve of her hips…

….and stopped. Harry looked at her eyes dark and very wide.

"Tasha are you uh… wearing anything… under this dress?"

He closed his eyes as she slowly shook her head, trying to keep it together, and failed. "Oh Gods Natasha Romanoff, you are going to be the death of me".

 _She was literally pinned up against the tree by that long lean, gorgeous body. His mouth and tongue sought out every sensitive nerve on her neck, while his left hand had hooked her leg up giving his fingers access to the smooth skin of her inner thigh, drawing tantalising patterns ever closer… She couldn't think, she couldn't breathe… she just_ wanted, needed…

"Are you telling me, Natasha Romanoff…?" she was relieved to hear the desperate hoarseness in his voice, knowing that he was in no better state than she was "…are you telling me that you are stark naked under this dress? That all I have to do is slide up this skirt a little more to expose you completely to anyone that happens to walk by or look out of a window? To move my hand just a little higher…" she felt a thumb drag slowly up her inner thigh to almost.. nearly.. brush against her, dragging a frustrated groan from her, the wicked voice in her ear driving her slowly insane. "... to _feel_ how wet you are… how badly you want this. Even make you come around my fingers, here and now… in the street where anyone can watch you…"

She was murmuring in fractured Russian now, eyes glazed, brain fogged with desire. Harry's thigh was between hers and she ground herself shamelessly against it, desperate for release… _she was close, so fucking close._

Harry stepped back, breathing hard.

"Oh no. Sorry sweetheart"

" _What?"_ The blue eyes promised murder...

Harry cradled her face in his hands, dropping featherlight kisses on her overheated skin. "Natasha, I want to make the most of this… of you. At home, just around the corner, I have the biggest, softest bed in London, and an open fire in the bedroom. You have to admit that that sounds better than a quick fuck in a London street. Come on, like you said, we're nearly there."Not willing to wait, he picked her up and headed for home, smiling at the words of desire and promises of unspeakable vengeance she whispered in his ear as he hurried into Grimmauld Place

As soon as the big front door closed behind them he apparated them straight to his bedroom

ooo0ooo

In a strategically placed second floor bedroom on the corner of Grimmauld Place, Donnelly set his long lensed camera down with a huff of frustration. Beside him Mason rolled her eyes scornfully, then turned, startled as Araposa slammed the door…

"Something appears to have upset our new boss..."

Donnelly grunted in frustration. "Something's upset _me_... I was hoping he was about to nail her to that fucking tree. That red head's a bitch, but she's one hot bitch."

Mason averted her eyes from the conspicuous bulge in her partner's trousers, to stare thoughtfully at the door. "... you knew where he'd bring her, knew the best viewpoint to watch the house. That's very interesting."

"Interesting?"

His partner nodded slowly, eyes still on the door. "It appears that our new boss has a history with this Potter person..."

ooo0ooo

The time it took to get to Harry's bedroom at least gave Natasha a few minutes to calm down a little, but she was still acutely aware of her shaking legs and racing pulse by the time they arrived. Realising the state she was in, Harry gave her a moment, happy to simply hold her, face buried in her hair until, finally feeling her steady a little, he tilted her chin up kissing her slow and unhurried, taking a long, long time to explore every inch of her mouth until they were both raw and dizzy with desire and the need to breathe. Finally breaking away, he set her back against the carved wooden posts of his bed.

"So you have something to hang onto" he growled.

"Cocky aren't you Mr Magic Man". She tried for insouciant but the pulse racing in her throat and the tremors that shook her body gave the lie to her words…"

"Let's see shall we… Put your arms over your head…" Crouching before her, he ran big strong hands up the outside of her legs, pushing her black dress slowly upwards, eyes never once leaving hers. "You look amazing in this dress, but it has to go."

He felt Natasha tremble, taking a deep breath as his thumbs left her waist, brushed the sides of her breasts as they travelled slowly upwards, drawing the dress over her head, leaving her naked before him, wearing only her black heels which she went to kick off. "No, leave them on… please." She looked at him taller than her even now, tense and wide eyed… "Oh Christ Tasha. You're stunning, perfect… just ... perfect"

She smiled uncertainly, shaken out of her usual inscrutability by the raw need in his eyes. There was something about this man that stripped away her layers, not simply her clothing. With Harry she wasn't the Black Widow, the Avenger with the shady past, she wasn't even Natalia Romanova. With him she had no masks, no disguises. She was just Tasha. And it terrified her, even as she loved it...

"Tasha" Harry's voice was gentle, concerned, cradling her against him as though she was a delicate, precious thing to be protected at all costs. "Are you alright Tash?"

She shook off her mood with a shrug, trying for levity. "This isn't fair. You're wearing far too many clothes Mr Magic Man". Her lips against his, her unsteady hands loosened his tie, struggled with the buttons of his shirt, suddenly desperate for the sensation of his skin against hers, eventually losing patience, sending both buttons and shirt flying across the room.

He was gorgeous she thought hazily, running her hands down his stomach, nipping at his collarbone, all pale skin and long lean muscle, broader in the shoulders taut and defined lower down, with that lovely teasing line of soft hair leading down into his waistband. She reached out to pull him still closer, but he smiled, leaning her firmly back against the bedpost once again, as he dropped to one knee before her.

She leaned back grateful for the support as he lifted one leg from the floor, removing her shoe, kissing her instep, working his way up her leg with tongue and hands and teeth until every inch of her skin was tingling. Finding the tiny spot at the back of her knee that wrenched a whimper from her, he worked it mercilessly with his tongue until she was gripping the bedpost, head thrown back.

"You're thinking about how it'll feel aren't you Tash?" Harry murmured as hands and lips and tongue worked their way up her thigh, her leg braced over his shoulder now, her muscles trembling under his hands. "You're thinking what it'll be like when I finally get there... when I finally slip my tongue _here_." A single finger brushed, light as a butterfly's wing, making her arch frantically against him. She heard the raw need in his voice, realising how much it cost him to take so very much time with her. "You're so swollen already Tash, you want it so badly, I can smell it" He took a deep breath. "You smell wonderful. You're so turned on right now you're barely upright." His eyes, full of desire and wonder and mischief looked up at her. "How long do you think you can hold out?"

"Bring it on Mr Magic Man..." When would she learn to keep her mouth shut thought Natasha blearily. He was right. She was so turned on, so desperate that one touch of his tongue would probably be enough. She needed him so badly that it literally hurt, a dull throbbing ache between her legs that made it impossible to think of anything else.

His mouth had left her thigh for a moment, lifting his head to run his tongue thoughtfully around her navel, tickling and teasing until she gasped and squirmed, but his hands held her hips firmly against the post...

"But Tasha. My beautiful, lethal, funny gorgeous Tasha, have you considered that we have all night… all the time in the world...?" with a wicked smile, his hands left her hips to run up her stomach to her breasts, rolling her already hardened nipples firmly in his fingers, clearly intending to stretch this out as long as he could...

And Natasha broke

"No... Harry... no, please don't make me..." She was babbling now, no shame left. "Harry, you wanted me to beg and I'm begging... please Harry... please don't make me wait.. I need... I ... please."

His smile widened, knowing that she was still precariously balanced on a single high heel, her leg shaking uncontrollably as she fought to regain even a little control clinging helplessly to the bedpost behind her, under the twin onslaught of his mouth and fingers... "Shhh love. Since you ask so _very_ nicely..." Still unhurried he nibbled and kissed his way down the taut quivering muscles of her stomach, until she finally felt cool sure fingers part her folds, felt warm breath over her agonisingly heated swollen flesh. "Hold on tight sweetheart..."

She had been right. Harry's tongue flicked feather-light over her clitoris... there, but nowhere near enough, forcing a ragged scream from her as her hips bucked desperately… seeking… wanting…. more.. just… _more._ No sooner had she managed to catch a ragged breath than his fingers parted her a little further, "Tasha, sweetheart, you taste _delicious." ..._ teasing her with tiny kitten licks, careful to avoid giving her any kind of relief, until he finally took pity, looking up at her, knowing he had managed to reduce this composed, self possessed woman to shaking, babbling, incoherence...

"Come for me Tasha..."

With a final swirl of his tongue, Harry took the swollen bud very carefully between his teeth, tugging gently before sucking her firmly into his mouth.

And in that one single second, Natasha Romanoff shattered, screaming his name, into wave after wave of suffocating pleasure that ripped the breath and strength from her body...

But he wasn't done with her yet. Just as she peaked, shaking uncontrollably against his mouth; he slid two long cool fingers inside her, curling them against her walls, sucking firmly on her far too sensitive clitoris at the same time, crashing her straight through into a second, even more intense climax, wailing this time, as another wall of sensation, perfectly poised between agony and mind blowing pleasure, far too intense for her already hopelessly overstimulated body to cope with, hit her and everything went black…. Only Harry's fast reflexes caught her as Natasha's body, crumpled, boneless and barely conscious onto his bed.

ooo0ooo

Natasha came around to find that Harry had moved her to the middle of the bed. She felt amazing, her body still tingling, but weak and boneless, utterly relaxed. Harry was resting his head on her stomach, glittering green eyes watching her.

"Hey. You're back"

"Congratulations" she gasped weakly "In all my life, all of my experience, I've never ever done that. I thought it was a sexual urban myth… the idea of actually blacking out - now I know."

Harry knelt up on the bed, and she realised he must have shed the rest of his clothes while she was out of it, for he was gloriously and gorgeously naked… and clearly as desperately turned on as she had been a few minutes ago. Sitting up a little, she reached for his hand, tugging him closer, the long length of his body poised above her. Drawing his head down for a kiss, her taste on his lips was ridiculously erotic. Smiling wickedly she rubbed herself against him, making him shudder brokenly into her shoulder.

"Hey Magic Man, we're not done yet…"

Green eyes hazy with his own need looked into hers. "Are you sure Tash? You look wrung out" he pushed the damp hair off her face… "I can sort… this out… if you…"

"Harry as insanely hot as the idea of lying here watching you masturbate is, I have a much better idea..."

"Oh. Well in that case, come here, Because I have an idea too…"

ooo0ooo

"You have all the best ideas" murmured Natasha a little while later. The room was dark now, except for the fire that Harry had managed to light without even leaving the bed; and she was half sitting, half laying on her back between Harry's legs. In spite of his own evident arousal, he had taken care with her, content to lie curled up around her, long fingers teasing her breasts, playing endlessly with her nipples until desire curled warm in her belly again and she shifted restlessly against him

"Shh, love… relax." One hand abandoned its games and drifted down, stroking the softness of her belly and onward over the neat dark red curls to slide a single moistened finger into her folds, stroking her clitoris with tiny teasing delicate strokes, while the other hand played out the same pattern on a nipple. "…there's no rush. It's no fun if it isn't good for us both"

Urgency was building but differently, from a distance, her body was warm and loose and thrumming with a curious tingling energy, when Harry finally drew her around and onto his lap. "I love it like this" he murmured into her ear, voice deeper and a little rougher than usual, "it's the most intimate thing imaginable. I can see every expression on your face as you…. _Oh shit… Tash_ … as you sink onto me. I can feel every shift in your body and every muscle clench and relax , but I still have both hands free to touch you or just to hold you… to kiss you…"

This time however it was Natasha that kissed him, her hands on his face, taking back a little of the control she had so happily ceded to him earlier as her hips found their rhythm, driving Harry slowly but surely out of his mind. He had been hard since the absence-of-underwear incident, and agonisingly hard since he had stripped her naked in one single motion and now an urgent heat was pooling low in his belly... there was no way he was going to last…

"Tash, will you do something for me love".

"Mmm"

"Touch yourself for me – please…"

Her eyes widened just for a second, then she smiled wickedly, bringing two fingers up to her mouth, sucking on them thoughtfully before slipping them into the folds where their bodies were joined, circling her clitoris. Harry's fingers alternatively stroked and pinched her nipples, watching entranced as she rode him, head thrown back, chasing her own pleasure. He didn't think he had ever seen anything so magnificent. But his body's urgency was becoming impossible to ignore now. He could feel his own climax building irresistibly, his body tightening, heart slamming against his ribs. Just as he was about to lose control, Tasha shuddered bone deep as her body tightened around him, pulling him with her over the edge, his vision whiting out as he shattered with a hoarse cry, riding out the storm wrapped tightly in her arms.

When Harry finally came to, Tasha was still curled up, half asleep in his lap and his right leg was starting to go dead. Carefully shifting her onto the bed he flicked his fingers over them both as he reached for the rumpled covers. Feeling the chilly tingle of his spell she opened her eyes, startled…

"Wha…?"

"Relax love… Cleaning charm. Not quite as good as a shower but pretty close"

She frowned adorably "oh… s'good." She gave a contented sigh as he drew the covers around them both, curling into his side "g'night Harry"

"Goodnight Tash". Harry slid an arm around her, drawing her closer, and within minutes they were both asleep…


	7. Chapter 7

_Author's Note: Over the last couple of chapters, a number of readers have either reviewed or PM'd me to say that they are concerned that Harry and Natasha's relationship is moving too quickly. This was a conscious decision on my part, for a number of reasons. Firstly, Harry, and more particularly Natasha, have been through a great deal, and are wary of entering into any kind of emotional commitment to each other at this stage. It is my instinct that my version of their characters are more comfortable expressing their connection physically right now. In addition, there will come a time very soon, when Natasha will have to go back to New York, putting an 'end by', or at the very least a 'make a decision by' date on their relationship. I don't want to say any more or I'll spoil the last few chapters. I realise that this isn't necessarily to everyone's taste, but this was never going to be a 'slow burner'. I hope this won't put anyone off._

* * *

 _Back to my update... thank you to everyone for their encouraging and constructive comments on the last chapter. Writing - particularly adult scenes - is incredibly subjective, and I know I won't always please everyone. However to the guest reviewer who essentially said... It's not the smut that offends it's bad smut like this... There you go... there's a lot of smut out there, I hope you find something more to your taste..._ _I thought that we were done with the raunchy stuff for now but apparently Harry and Natasha have other ideas... nothing too serious though - just a little mild morning after..._

* * *

It was the sunlight on her face, and a blast of cool morning air which awoke her. Grumbling softly Natasha burrowed back under the covers, chasing sleep, but the long warm body that had been curled protectively around her all night wasn't there anymore, and the light from the drawn curtain was too bright to ignore. Squinting blearily, she peered over the covers to see Harry, dressed only in a loose pair of pyjama trousers, standing by the open window reading a message.

Without looking up, he smiled. "You're staring"

She smiled sleepily. "Actually, I'm ogling. I'm wondering why the gorgeous half naked guy by the window is standing there getting cold on his own when he should still be in bed with me..."

Harry returned to the bed, perching on the edge, reaching out to smooth her disordered hair, "Great bed head by the way". Chuckling he leaned forward to kiss her lightly. "Good morning"

Natasha pulled herself up to a sitting position, slipping out of bed to straddle his lap, shivering at the chilly air on her skin. "That, Mr Potter, was a very unsatisfactory good morning. Would you like to try again?"

Harry smiled, running his hands down her bare back to settle on her hips. "Well since you ask so nicely..."

Her pulse rate fluttered at the vivid memory of what had followed the same words the night before, arousal building slowly, making her moan softly into the kiss, wriggling closer onto his lap. When the need to breathe finally separated them, Natasha ran her hands down his chest, with a mock-scowl. "Harry, this is becoming a habit..."

"What's that?"

"How is it that I'm the naked one again. This isn't very fair..." She scowled at his pyjama trousers as if they had personally offended her... "Why don't you get rid of these and come back to bed. You got to have your fun with me last night, I think it's only reasonable that I get to return the favour."

Harry groaned into her shoulder, reaching reluctantly to catch her hand as it slid down his stomach towards his waistband . "Ah Tash no, that's not fair. There's nothing I want more than to spend the morning in bed with you, but that message – that was from Kingsley, he needs to speak to us privately, and will be coming to us rather than the other way round."

Natasha frowned. "Why would he come here? It doesn't make sense... Whoa - hold on... coming here... when?"

Harry looked at his watch. "In about half an hour, and I really ought to get some coffee on, so there isn't even time for a quickie"

It was clear that Natasha didn't approve of this plan _at all._ "We could always grab a shower together"

"Tasha, if I have the good fortune to end up getting wet and soapy with you, I can guarantee that we will _definitely_ still be in there when the Minister for Magic walks into my sitting room. And officially we are still on the clock. I _could_ put it down to developing international magical / muggle relations, but I don't think he's going to buy it somehow."

She huffed in frustration, pouting a little. "OK, but I would just like to note that tonight it's my turn to make _you_ beg."

Harry rubbed his thumb over her lower lip and followed it with a kiss. "Tash, I have the most beautiful woman in London, no let me rephrase that. I have _the_ most beautiful woman period, naked in my lap, promising to do utterly unspeakable things to me tonight, and you think I'm going to _resist_...?"

"Harry"

"Mm Hmm?"

"Will you _please_ stop saying things like that, otherwise I will not be responsible for my actions, and your boss is going to get a hell of a shock when he gets here."

Harry couldn't resist the titillating image of Kingsley walking in on them, perhaps in the kitchen, or in the shower… He was suddenly aware that Natasha was watching him, heat and laughter mingled on her face. He had the uncomfortable feeling that she knew exactly what she was thinking.

"Why Harry Potter, who knew that... you... are clearly a very... bad... boy..."

 _Oh shit!_

Looking at his watch he realised with horror that they were down to twenty minutes…

"Ms Romanoff, shower, now... Coffee downstairs in ten minutes. _Vamos_ ".

"Spoilsport..."

ooo0ooo

Harry was still downstairs alone when the floo chimed, heralding Kingsley's arrival.

"Harry?"

"Hello Minister, come in, can I offer you coffee?"

Kingsley brushed soot off his robes, smiling genially. "Kingsley please Harry, we're on your turf now. And yes please, coffee would be wonderful ."

Harry indicated the library sofas. "Do you want to sit down – I'll be back in a minute?"

"No panic Harry, don't stand on ceremony. I've visited this house many times, although not since you sorted it out. It looks good. You've managed to obliterate the 'centuries of dark magic' decor." Stepping into the kitchen he looked around in pleasure. Very nice. The old layout with the long table up the middle that you had to shuffle round was a nightmare, this is much better".

Harry smiled, handing him a mug. "It seems a long time ago now, the Order of the Phoenix, the Weasleys..." his expression darkened "Sirius, Remus, Tonks... Fred".

"You miss still them."

Harry shrugged. "I do, but you can't grieve forever you know. Eventually things start to scab over. I have a life now, friends..."

"And what about love? Is there a lady in your life?"

Harry looked shifty, thinking of the lovely redhead upstairs... "Can I come back to you on that one?"

Kingsley chuckled. "Not Ginny Weasley then?"

Harry shook his head, spooning milk and sugar into his coffee "Heaven forbid. We were close at school... to be honest I did consider that she might be... you know. But no. Not for a long time. We wanted different things..."

"Different things?"

"I wanted time to develop my career, my life. See a little of the world. And Ginny. She wanted to be Mrs Harry Potter, wife of the Boy Who Lived, Mrs Saviour of the Wizarding World. I don't even know where she is any more. Last I heard she'd been seen hanging out with some rich European type, Italian, Spanish... I forget, it was a long time ago."

Kingsley looked around and changed the subject... "Aren't we expecting Ms Romanoff to join us?"

Harry took a sip of his coffee. "She'll be down in a minute, we had a really long day yesterday, so she hasn't been up long." Sure enough he looked up, hearing footsteps on the stairs, and rose to pour another mug of coffee. "Speak of the devil and she will appear."

Without thinking he added sugar and just a splash of milk to Tasha's coffee, handing it to her automatically as she entered. A flicker of surprise crossed her face as she realised that the burly man in the brightly coloured robes sipping coffee at Harry's kitchen table must be the most powerful man in the British Wizarding Community.

Kingsley's eyes widened as he rose to greet her. Clearly whatever he had been expecting, it had not been this, Harry took a moment to discretely appreciate Tasha's black jumper/jeans/knee boots combo from their first meeting. Her long red hair loose on her shoulders, she looked stunning, as though she'd just had twelve hours unbroken sleep. Seeing her raised eyebrow as she took her coffee with a murmur of thanks, Harry remembered his manners. "Ah, sorry... Kingsley, may I introduce Agent Natasha Romanoff of SHIELD. Natasha, this is Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister for Magic."

Kingsley rose to shake Natasha's hand. "It's a pleasure Agent Romanoff"

"Natasha, please Minister"

Kingsley smiled appreciatively. Harry knew he had been very happily married for many years, but he was by no means immune to a pretty face - and Natasha was so very much more than simply a pretty face.

When they were all settled around the table Kingsley produced some papers from a fold in his robes. "First the good news. In spite of my dire predictions I am pleased to say that I now have permission for you _and_ Natasha to visit Branwen. Harry I will leave you to fill Natasha in on the details when I have gone."

Harry turned the piece of parchment in his hands dubiously. This had been far easier than he had expected. He had anticipated several days of wrangling before the Statute Office capitulated. "Blimey Kingsley. Who did you have to promote to swing this so quickly?"

Was Harry being paranoid, or did Kingsley look... shifty... almost guilty?

"Put it this way. When it comes to the annual spending review, the Statute Office is looking to avoid the worst of the cuts. I'm going to have to completely rejig next year's budget thanks you Harry."

"Thanks Kingsley, I really do appreciate it. However, you said that this is the _good_ news, from which I can safely deduce that there must be some bad news..."

Kingsley's face did indeed look very serious. "Harry, when we spoke yesterday you said that you had been spotted by this HYDRA on several occasions, even though you have taken extensive magical precautions to stay off the grid. Is that right?"

Harry nodded. That's right. They were at St Asaph on both days, then at Chester, even though we changed our appearance twice in the meantime. I don't understand it. That's why we ditched the car and apparated back to London. Some of it could be good luck and good investigating but..."

Natasha looked at him. "... but?"

He shrugged. "When we got home yesterday evening, I turned to close the door, and I thought I saw a flash from a window... like from binoculars or a camera lens. I'm probably just being paranoid though... I mean how could they know about this place. Even with the _fidelius_ weakened once Dumbledore died, it's still in effect, how could they know where I live?"

Kingsley nodded thoughtfully. "This concerns me too. The chances of tracking you without magical knowledge and ability are virtually non-existent so I got my opposite number in New York to have a very long talk with your..." here he nodded to Natasha "...people for more information on this HYDRA, and they came up with some interesting and rather concerning whispers." He turned back to Natasha, "...tell me Natasha, have you ever heard of Araposa?"

The Russian agent frowned into her coffee before shaking her head slowly. "I don't believe so. What do you have on it... them?"

"Very little I'm afraid, only smoke and mirrors. Apparently there is a whisper - only a whisper mind you - that Hydra may have a member of the magical community on the payroll. If this is the case, they will understand who Harry is, how his power works and what he is capable of. It puts you both at a disadvantage"

"A member of the magical community... Are we talking about a former Death Eater do you think?"

"What the hell is a Death Eater?"

"It's kind of a long story Tash, can I catch you up later... Kingsley?"

The Minister for Magic shook his head. "Most of the principal Death Eaters are either dead or in Azkaban by now." He looked meaningfully at Harry. "It could be one of their children of course..."

Seeing his expression, Harry tensed "No Kingsley..."

"Harry... I'm not saying... although you have to admit that he would be very well placed..."

"No Kingsley... no...not Draco. Absolutely not. I trust him 110%. I have no doubts on that score"

"Draco?"

"My second in command in the Phoenix Squad. His father was a Death Eater, dragged Draco into the whole mess when he was far too young to choose for himself... but he's moved on from that. His father is dead and Draco has my complete trust. There is no one I would rather have at my back."

Kingsley shrugged. "We may be arguing over nothing. There's no guarantee that Araposa is anything to do with the Death Eaters, he could be anyone... in fact there's nothing to say that he even exists. You just need to be aware of the possibility."

Harry nodded. "That's why you wanted to speak to us here."

"Next to Gringott's Bank you have the tightest wards in London Harry. No one is going to overhear us in here. Just watch your backs OK. There's no guarantee that your powers will give you the protection we'd hoped for. Although I would say that this lady here is perfectly capable of doing her fair share of protection... your reputation precedes you Ms Romanoff. Unlike most of the magical community I am only too aware of your very impressive work with the Avengers"

"Thank you Minister. Your confidence is appreciated."

Kingsley set down his coffee mug and checked his watch. "Well, I'm afraid I have another meeting to get back to so I have to be off. Branwen has been notified of your arrival, and will expect you tomorrow afternoon in time for supper. I would advise that you stay here tonight and apparate directly to your destination tomorrow, especially if the house is being watched. Ms Romanoff, it has been a pleasure. Harry, I expect a full report when this is all over. If you need anything don't hesitate to contact me directly."

"Thank you Sir. Could you please ensure that Draco gets some support in my absence, he's incredibly competent and efficient but there are still some real greenhorns in that group."

"Leave it with me. I'll have a word with Fitch myself, make sure he keeps an eye on things... and that he plays nice with Mr Malfoy. You just worry about keeping yourselves safe, foiling the international criminal plot and saving the world. All in a day's work..."

"All in a day's work. Goodbye Kingsley."

ooo0ooo

When Kingsley had gone Natasha made more coffee while Harry went over the permit for the following day's visit...

"All OK?"

Harry looked up as Natasha dropped into the seat opposite with their drinks and a plate of biscuits she had found in the cupboard. He nodded. "It's fine. We can apparate straight from here tomorrow afternoon."

"So that gives us some time?"

"Yes. It's a shame we can't go today, or even tomorrow morning, but I'd anticipated it taking much longer than this to even get permission, so I'm not prepared to push it "

"Well that gives us some time to talk?"

Harry dunked a ginger nut into his coffee and chewed slowly. Natasha watched him and pulled a face. "What did you want to talk about Tash?"

"Seems I'm not the only one with a past... Harry Potter, Saviour of the Wizarding World, wars, Death Eaters... Harry, what the hell did SHIELD miss?"

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. "It's a _long_ story... come on, bring your coffee, if I'm going to tell you we might as well be comfortable, I'll light the fire in the library."

Once the fire was blazing merrily and their coffees topped up, Harry settled himself comfortably on the sofa, smiling quietly when, without a second thought Natasha removed her boots, she wriggling her socked toes comfortably under his thigh for warmth, before regarding him over the top of her mug.

"OK, Mr Magic Man, what's the story"

Harry took a moment for a sip of coffee, wondering how far to go back.

"Well… once upon a time there was a boy called Thomas Marvolo Riddle."

"Did his parents hate him or something… _Marvolo?"_

"After a fashion. He was the son of the demented daughter of a psychopathic monster, and an arrogant inbred muggle. Not that the poor bastard deserved what he got. There are some pretty powerful love potions out there, and she managed to get to him good and proper. Tom Riddle was the result."

"So Tom Riddle was like you… a wizard"

"Tom Riddle was a wizard. But he was _nothing_ like me!" Seeing the surprise on Natasha's face, he winced. "Sorry, that's a bit of a raw nerve… there are similarities. Like me Tom was orphaned very early in life and had a difficult upbringing. He was in a muggle orphanage… I … well enough of that for now. Tom Riddle also attended the same school as me, back when Professor Dumbledore..."

"The old guy in the picture yesterday?"

"That's the one… when Professor Dumbledore was a teacher at the School. In general Tom was very successful at the school, drawing to him an inner circle of wizards who shared his obsession with blood purity." Seeing Natasha's confusion, Harry elaborated. "It was the belief of one of the four founders of the school that only pure blood wizards were worthy of the study of magic"

"Like Hitler's Aryan Brotherhood"

"Precisely. Riddle kept his muggle father very quiet and traded instead on his mother's direct descent from this founder, which made her pretty much wizarding aristocracy. He and his little group believed that pure blood wizards were the dominant species on earth, that the mixing of magical and muggle blood should be avoided at all costs, and that so called muggle born witches and wizards were an abomination that must have somehow stolen their powers from true witches or wizards."

"Wait… so you're saying that it's possible for a magical child to be born to non-magical parents? How does that work?"

"In terms of muggle science, magic is simply a recessive genetic trait. A family can pass on this recessive gene for generations without it showing up, until a descendant has a child with another person with the same recessive gene. Under those circumstances, there is a chance that at least one of their children will be magical, even though there is apparently no magic in their family. This must have been what happened with my mother."

"Wow OK. That must be a shock. But go on. Tell me about this Riddle guy"

"So Tom Riddle grew up at Hogwarts, hatching his nasty little anti muggle born plans, apparently unsuspected by anyone but Dumbledore, who had an eye on him even then. Once he left Hogwarts, his power and influence increased, and his little circle of psychos went with him. They called themselves the Death Eaters, took to wearing tall hats and these freaky silver masks."

"Nice… you magic types clearly do a good line in creepy villains"

"Oh you have no idea"

"So this Riddle is basically trying to take over the world."

"Exactly. I don't know whether his movement ever made it as far as the States, but there was certainly trouble in Northern Europe at least. But Riddle had a second obsession- with his own mortality. You and I know that there are worse things to face than death, but Voldemort could never see that. So while he was at school, he discovered an horrific and virtually unknown piece of black magic called a horcrux. In conjunction with the spell, an act of murder splits off a piece of the soul, embedding it in an object. As long as the fragment is safe, the rest of the caster's soul is effectively tethered to the mortal world, unable to pass on, even if the physical body is destroyed. To our knowledge Riddle was only the second person to accomplish this, and the only one to successfully create multiple fragments."

Natasha was watching him, wide eyed. "Dear God... wait...you said he discovered how to do this _at school?_ What kind of stuff do they have in their library?"

"Actually, that's a very good question. By the early eighties when I was born the British magical community was virtually at war, with the forces of good being led by Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix. My Mum and Dad, only a few years out of school, and barely more than kids themselves, were both members. Apparently there was a prophecy concerning the "chosen one" that would be able to kill the Dark Lord – Lord Voldemort he was calling himself by then. One born "as the seventh month dies"

"You"

Harry shrugged. "The stupid thing is that there was another child – a mate of mine – Neville Longbottom, who could just as easily have been the one, but ironically, by focusing on me... trying to destroy me, Voldemort effectively created the instrument of his own destruction... when he killed my parents."

"How old were you?"

"Fifteen months old or thereabouts. I don't remember much. My mum screaming, a flash of light, and Voldemort's laughter. He tried to kill me, but it rebounded… protection from my mum apparently, leaving me this scar. Voldemort disappeared without a trace."

"And you were raised by your Aunt and Uncle?"

Harry nodded. "To be honest, I don't really want to talk about those years. Until I went to school I thought my name was _boy_ or _freak_. My first Hogwarts letter was addressed to _Harry Potter, the Cupboard under the Stairs…_ "

If the Dursleys had been available, thought Harry, watching sympathy disgust and blind fury chase across Natasha's face, they would have been dead by now, in one of the no doubt thousands of ways that she had at her disposal. The one thing he was certain of was that it would have hurt… a lot.

"They kept you in a closet?"

"My bedroom. The reason I've never been afraid of spiders."

"And you didn't know you were a wizard?"

"No. I just knew that there was something awful wrong with me. The reason why my aunt and uncle loved my cousin Dudley so much, and loathed the very sight of me."

"Didn't anyone check on you? Don't you have Social Services in this country?"

"Nope, I saw no one, magical or muggle. Dumbledore literally left me on the doorstep in the middle of the night at the end of October, and didn't see me again until he sent Hagrid to find me when I turned eleven."

"Hagrid… his … deputy?"

"His gamekeeper"

Natasha closed her eyes briefly. "I'm beginning to change my mind about the "nice" Professor Dumbledore. Doorsteps in October aside – the possible Saviour of the Wizarding World didn't warrant a proper teacher, or even a visit from his august self?"

Harry shook his head. "Another good question. So I arrived at school to realise that I appeared to be the only person there that hadn't heard of me. "The Boy Who Lived" they called me, because I was inadvertently the cause of Voldemort's disappearance, and the only person on record to survive a direct killing curse. Over the next few years, you have no idea how utterly sick I got of that tagline. Anyway. Voldemort made his first attempt to return in that first year at school when I was eleven."

"And Dumbledore kept you safe?"

"Actually Dumbledore was in London. Ron Hermione and I kept me safe"

"I have many things to say at this point. None of them that Dumbledore would wish to hear. Go on."

"He tried again in my second year, when one of his horcruxes came to light. It nearly killed Ginny Weasley, my friend Ron's little sister who's mind was taken over, making her release a Basilisk into the school."

"A BASILISK. A real basilisk… huge snake, kills just by looking at someone."

"That's the one." He pulled back the sleeve of his jumper to reveal a scar that hadn't been visible in the firelight the night before. "That nearly killed me"

Natasha examined it in stunned fascination. "You fought a basilisk. At what thirteen?"

"Twelve actually, I wasn't thirteen till the end of July. In my fourth year I fought dragons and wrangled sea creatures, before I finally got to confront Voldemort for the first time. That was the year of the Triwizard tournament… the year _he_ came back. He killed a schoolmate of mine in the process. Cedric Diggory. That was the year that my mate Ron finally started to get it."

"Get what?"

"That the attention... the speculation in the press... it was a nightmare. Before that he spent a significant amount of time being jealous of me. He and Ginny were the two youngest of seven children in this dirt poor but really wonderful, close, loving pure blood family. Ron, who was already hopelessly hooked up on the idea that his elder brothers were all better looking, cleverer, more popular, more successful than him, then went and compounded his issues by becoming the best friend of the most famous eleven year old in the wizarding world." Harry shrugged, unable to keep the note of bitterness out of his voice. "Plus I had money. I had no family, no parents, but I was famous and I had money… he never understood that I would have given it all up in less than a heartbeat to have had what he had"

"And he was your friend… he sounds like a dick. But carry on…"

"My godfather was murdered by the Death Eaters the following year – the same time I found out about the bloody prophecy, then the year I turned sixteen they killed Dumbledore. Before he died he told me all he knew… which wasn't much… about the horcruxes. So as soon as I came of age - seventeen in our world - Ron, Hermione and I left school and set off on the single longest, worst camping trip in the history of very bad camping trips. By then Voldemort had taken over the ministry. The Order of the Phoenix had gone underground, and unbeknownst to us, the other potential Chosen One, Neville Longbottom, God bless him, was busy organising his own resistance movement at Hogwarts. I won't go into details, because it's a long story in its own right, but suffice to say we eventually got back to Hogwarts, almost a year later, four horcruxes down and two more to find and destroy. There was a huge battle. Too many died, most of them only kids. It took years to rebuild the castle afterwards. But then I found out the truth, from the memories of a dying man."

By now Natasha had abandoned her end of the sofa and was curled into his side, legs resting across his. "Go on"

"There was a seventh horcrux - made by accident. Me. Dumbledore had known all along, but Voldemort and I had no idea"

"But I thought that you needed to destroy…."

"I walked into the woods, found Voldemort, and gave myself up."

"At seventeen..." She tried to imagine how that must have felt... The kind of lonely, desperate courage needed to walk alone into the woods knowing that your death, at the hands of a psychopath, was the only chance to save everything you believed in... she had offered up her life any number of times, but there was something in Harry's voice which chilled her to the bone.

"Tash. I was seventeen, but I felt at least sixty by then. I just wanted it all to be over. I remember the curse, the flash of light, then nothing. I came to five minutes later. I was alive but the horcrux was gone, killed by the killing curse. Voldemort and his thugs took what he thought was my body back to the castle. I escaped, the battle continued, and once Neville had killed the snake, I finally killed Voldemort."

"And just because you hadn't saved the world enough, you now do this for a living." _Because like me, you didn't know anything else but the fight_ Natasha thought sadly _"_ What happened to your friends?"

"Hermione and I are still close. She works for the ministry in …. another department. Ron didn't do so well. He tried the Aurors but couldn't settle to it… he'd lost a brother in the battle, and he never really got over it. He took to drink, and got kicked out in the end, even Kingsley couldn't smooth things over any longer. He helps his brother with his shop, but the booze is still a problem, at least it was the last I heard of him, he won't talk to me anymore. Too many bad memories I suppose. Ginny his sister was a well-known athlete until she retired. Last I heard of her she was hooked up with some shady aristocrat - from Spain maybe…. I don't remember. And my greatest enemy at school... the Slytherin git with the Death Eater father? Draco is now my second in command and my best mate. He and Hermione have been circling around one another for years, hopefully they'll finally discover they're insanely in love with one another before they're too old and grey to do anything about it.

Natasha took a mouthful of coffee, pulling a face when she realised it was stone cold... Harry smiled. "I could offer to warm that up for you, but it never tastes the same, I'll make us a fresh cup in a minute. Are you OK?"

"Reality check, I guess. God knows, all of the Avengers have had difficult pasts, in so many different ways, but... wow... that's up there with any of us." She considered him carefully. "All in all, you seem remarkably sane and balanced under the circumstances."

"I did have people there for me... Professor McGonagall, some of the members of the Order, old friends of my parents, and school friends." Sliding out from under her legs, he brushed a finger over her cheek. "... It was tough, but nowhere near as tough as you had it Tash." He looked at his watch. "Blimey, it's way past lunchtime. What do you fancy?"

Natasha pulled a face, stretching her legs. "To be honest I'm really not that hungry. I've been indoors too long I think. I can go for days without exercise if I have to, but but I don't like it - I don't suppose you have an indoor gym by any chance?"

Harry paused, halfway out of the door "You run?"

"In my job – of course I run"

He shrugged. "OK. Do you fancy a few miles? Nothing too strenuous, just some fresh air and exercise"

"Aren't we supposed to be staying out of sight?"

Harry shook his head. "Apparition itself is untraceable. Providing we go somewhere random they shouldn't be able to track us. It's the places they expect us to go that are the problem because they can just wait there until we arrive."

"Well in that case" Natasha smiled as she stood up "... give me five minutes."

ooo0ooo

Harry apparated them to a windswept beach on the North Norfolk coast - almost deserted at this time of year, where they ran along the flat wet sand until Harry was forced to concede, collapsing in the dunes, breathing heavily until Natasha jogged back to join him. He looked up at with a rueful grin "I thought I was in reasonable shape... but you leave me standing"

She shrugged. "I run a lot in my line of work. I don't get to do a lot of this kind of thing, visiting libraries, archives, research. Most of the time it's very physical." She rested her chin on her knees. "This almost feels like a holiday at the moment, it's a shame it isn't going to last."

Harry watched her profile, which was grave, almost sad, as she studied the waves running up the beach toward. "Are you OK Tasha?"

She sighed, eyes never leaving the incoming tide. "Be careful Harry"

"Of HYDRA?"

"Well, yes. But that isn't what I meant. Of us, of... this. When this is over I'll have to go back to New York, to the Avengers and the Black Widow. You know this isn't going to last." She pulled off her hair band, letting the wind tug it free. "This isn't me... I can't be like this normally. Hell I'm _never_ like this" she looked sideways on him. "When you see me... you just see me. Not what they made me. I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing"

"What was it like? This training they put you through when you were a child?"

She shook her head. "I don't want to talk about most of it... can't talk about some of it. Although you would understand better than most. You had to face things too, things that no child should have to worry about... but no. Not now."

He put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. "If there ever comes a time when you do want to talk about it, I'll be here. Even if you're back in New York, even if we haven't seen each other for years, I'll always be here if you need someone to listen."

She shook her head. "If I told you a fraction of the things I've done Harry, you wouldn't want to hold me like this again. I've lied and killed in the service of liars and killers. I've killed indiscriminately in the service of the worst of humanity and never questioned it. No good I can do now can ever wipe out what I've done."

"Would you do that now... if they asked you to?"

She shook her head. "No. Things are different now. I work for Fury, but he doesn't own my soul. This... you and I... would never ever have been permitted. It would have been a distraction. If you were a target – a mark. Someone to be cultivated, that would be expected, but not like this."

Harry frowned. He hadn't allowed himself to think of this before... "They expected you to do that. To.. to sleep with men, as part of a mission"

Natasha nodded. "Why else would they recruit girls. When I was seventeen they had me working as a whore in the red light district of Moscow for three months, turning tricks until my mark appeared. We were the property of the state to do with as they wished. You do understand what the Black Widow Spider does don't you Harry?"

He nodded, his face dark. "She mates, then kills and eats the male. Is that what they trained you for, to seduce and kill?"

She nodded. "Among other things, yes"

"And now?"

She chuckled. "You are not my first 'real' relationship Harry – there _have_ been others. But..." she paused, trying to put her thoughts on last night into words. "...no one has ever taken so much care of me. Even when I don't need protecting, it's still nice to be treated as though I do; I have to admit it was...enlightening. And on the subject of last night... and this morning... after all that sweat, sea and sand I feel the need for a shower." Leaning in closer, she dropped little kisses along the line of his jaw. "Didn't you say something this morning about getting 'wet and soapy' with me."

Harry didn't need to be asked twice...


	8. Chapter 8

_Apologies for the delay in posting this chapter. The last couple of weeks at work have been a mare, not helped by being ill, and trying to get everything in order before taking this week off. Why is it that the stress getting ready, and coming back from leave almost makes the leave itself not worth it...? That and a couple of other issues together knocked me for a complete loop, and I haven't touched my laptop for at least ten days. Fortunately MKB my lovely Beta is here this week and has kicked me back into touch. So thank you all for your support and for your patience... knowing that almost 900 people are following this story is amazing and very humbling._

 _The next couple of chapters draw on a variety of traditional myths and legends. I have no claim on Marvel or JK Rowling's characters, but the House of Branwen and its inhabitants are all my own..._

 _Merrick x_

* * *

Harry and Natasha spent a quiet and lazy morning at Grimmauld Place before repacking their baggage and apparating to their destination as instructed. Leaving the secluded garden, which Harry explained was an official apparition point, they walked down a wide pleasant shopping street. Looking around, Natasha took in the variety of small shops, with a distinct preponderance of crystals, dragons and Arthurian references before turning back to Harry... "Oh you have _got_ to be joking me... are we in _Glastonbury?"_

Harry smiled and shrugged, "I know, it's a cliché, but what can I say? There's always a foundation to every myth, they don't just spring up out of nowhere..." Harry took Natasha's hand and led her down through the market place then on into the outskirts of the town, following the tourist route to the Chalice Well gardens, paying the entrance fee to the young woman on the gate with a smile of thanks. At this time of the year the gardens were quiet, with only the odd tourists, and a few locals enjoying the tranquil atmosphere. No one looked twice at the young couple wandering around the gardens, hand in hand. Natasha looked around appreciatively.

"This is nice"

Harry put his arm around her waist. "Oh, you have no idea, just wait and see."

"So where do we find this B..." she was silenced by a finger to her lips…

"Shhh. Not here"

He led her past the circular pools, following the path of the stream to the point where the water cascaded down a rock face. Stepping across the stream, Harry faced a dry stone wall. Taking a careful look over his shoulder for anyone observing them, Harry reached into his pocket and cursed under his breath.

"Tash. I don't suppose you have a knife by any chance...?"

She huffed. "Silly question Magic Man" bending to retrieve a small dagger from her boot. "What do you need it for... whoa... what the...?"

Harry looked unconcernedly down at the bleeding cut across the palm of his hand. "Some wizards use blood to seal dark magic rituals, but there is a more ancient form of magic in which blood is given as a payment, a symbolic sacrifice to the guardian spirits of a building or place, such as this. Watch..."

Taking out his wand, he tapped a series of six stones in the wall in careful sequence, before placing his hand, palm down onto a seventh, smearing blood across its surface, muttering something under his breath.

Natasha had seen evidence of Harry's power; she had had her appearance changed completely, been transported all over the country, and had thought that she was incapable of being surprised any further...

She was wrong.

She watched wide eyed, as the stones in front of her dissolved like smoke in the wind to reveal a landscape beyond...

"Harry, what is this?"

Harry stepped through without hesitation, turning back to offer her his hand. The schoolboy grin was irresistible. "Natasha Romanoff, you are about to see that which no muggle has seen in the annals of written history.

Welcome to the Isle of Avalon..."

ooo0ooo

Before she met Harry Potter, Natasha believed that she had lost the capacity for life to surprise her. Since that morning in the Copper Kettle in London, she had watched stunned as her own face and body changed before her eyes. She had spoken to moving portraits, drunk tea with a witch from a floating tea tray, travelled by fireplace and by magical teleportation. More incredibly still, to those that knew her well, she had peeled back her carefully constructed armour, and laid herself open, emotionally and physically to another human being. The Avengers, she thought, would never believe any of it.

But this?

The Isle of Avalon was a myth, a fairy story...

Like magic itself...

Taking a deep breath, she took Harry's hand and stepped through the portal.

ooo0ooo

The garden, the tourists and the bustling town had disappeared; instead Natasha stood by a lake surrounded by trees and silence. The other side of the lake was obscured by swirling wreaths of mist, only emphasising the sense of isolation. She spun around seeking reassurance in a way back, but behind her there were only more trees. No window leading back to the garden, to the world she knew.

 _She was a trained KGB agent, SHIELD agent – the Black Widow - one of Earth's Mightiest Heroes. She. Did. Not. Panic_. The fact that her hands were cold and sweaty and her heart was slamming a frenzied tempo against her ribs was nothing more than an adrenaline rush that would pass in a moment. Even the tremors running through her were due solely to the loss of the Glastonbury sunshine.

 _It was gone. The world that she knew... everything that she knew was gone... and there was no way back._

"Tash... are you OK?"

She finally managed to take a deep breath, her voice menacingly calm through the roaring in her ears. "Harry. Where the hell are we?"

In contrast, Harry was modelling an expression that could best be described 'kid in a candy store'. "Like I said, the Isle of Avalon"

"No... I mean... where _are_ we?" Instead of calming, she could hear her voice rising, feel her hands shaking. "Where is Glastonbury, the garden, the people?" Something was building inside her, she couldn't breathe...

The next thing Harry knew he was flat on his back with Natasha kneeling over him, knife in hand. Her eyes were wide and panicked, face so pale she was almost grey ...

" _What the fuck did you do...?"_

Harry didn't fight back, didn't even think of trying to escape. He simply lay there, palms up trying very hard not to think about the small but lethally sharp blade that was far too close to his neck for comfort.

"Tash"

"Tasha"

The hand at his throat was twitching disconcertingly. Harry kept his voice very low and even so as not to stress her further. "Tasha, sweetheart. You're alright. You're safe. I'm sorry, I should have explained this to you better. You've dealt with my magic so well, that I took it for granted that you would take this in your stride. Please, put the knife down."

Very slowly he brought a hand up to carefully remove the knife from her hand, setting it to one side, where she could still see it. He could vanish it, but she was strung tightly enough, if he took her weapon completely it might tip her over the edge.

"Tash, I'm going to sit up now OK?"

Numbly she backed off, her whole body too tight, too controlled. Once he was in a sitting position Harry reached for her, resting a hand on her cheek, amazed at how cold her skin was.

The blue eyes that had been staring at the floor as though mesmerised slowly lifted to his.

"I'm sorry"

"Come here." Harry stood up, pulling Natasha to her feet and into his arms.

"I'm so sorry" Her voice was muffled by his jacket.

He ran his hands down her back, feeling the tension slowly ebb out of her body... "Don't worry about it."

"But I could have killed you"

"Yes, you could. But I'm not exactly helpless you know". He smiled. "Don't be deceived by this mild mannered and boyish exterior, 'Saviour of the Wizarding World' remember. And I've had to deal with some pretty scary people over my career you know. I could have stopped you if I had to."

Her face was skeptical, but she let it pass. "So we're here. What happens now...?"

Hands on her shoulders, he set her away from him, turning her around.

There was a boat waiting at the edge of the lake. A long narrow boat, the kind she'd seen in pictures of British Universities – Oxford – or was it Cambridge? At one end, pole in hand was a tall hooded figure. The scene reminded her uncomfortably of the ferryman to the world of the dead.

"Are you sure this isn't the River Styx Harry?"

There was a dry chuckle, and the boatman pushed his hood back to reveal a thin, wrinkled face, surrounded by lank silver hair. He should have looked creepy, but the smile, and the good humoured twinkle in the grey eyes put her at her ease.

"Welcome to the Isle of Avalon Natasha Romanoff. Mr Potter, it is an honour to meet you Sir. I am Beineon the Boatman. The Lady of the Isle bid me bring you to her."

Harry inclined his head formally. "Thank you Beineon." The boatman held out a calloused hand to assist them into the boat.

"Please be seated. These boats are easy to tip if you don't know what you're doing. It has been many of your centuries since I last lost a passenger overboard. I do not wish to break that streak."

Natasha looked at Harry, eyebrows raised. _Centuries_ she mouthed.

Beineon chuckled. "Time on the Isle runs differently to the mortal world Miss Romanoff. This will make it difficult to gauge exactly when you will return. He paused. "Of course that may be a good thing, or it may not..."

Harry frowned... "What does that mean?"

"It means that you are being followed. Those that pursue you will be unable to enter the portal, but they may be waiting for you to emerge. You should be on your guard when the time comes."

Harry and Natasha looked at one another in consternation. "I'm sorry" he said. "We were so careful"

"Your enemies are both cunning and dangerous - and they have formidable assistance. The one they call The Fox now has your scent. You must take care, and remember, the secret of The Isle must be protected at all cost. The consequences of evil gaining access to the power and knowledge of this place are unimaginable"

Natasha nodded, looking over the side of the boat into the dark water, trailing a fingertip over the side. Harry leaned back against the seat, and watched as the mist closed around them.

ooo0ooo

Harry and Natasha had lost track of how long the journey had taken them. The seats in the boat were not particularly comfortable, and the mist seeped a damp chill through their clothing and into their bones. Eventually Natasha gave up and snuggled up against Harry, who wrapped an arm around her. "You cold?"

"Frozen."

"You should have said before. Here." Harry took out his wand and ran it past her with a few murmured words that she couldn't catch.

The feeling of warmth that flooded her was blissful. "Wow. What was that?"

He shrugged, trying not to look smug. "Just a warming charm. Better?"

"Amazing. Like being in a warm bath, but dry. Thank you."

He grinned when he realised that she had no intention of moving from her position against his shoulder. In spite of mysteries, mist and murderous hit men life was good at the moment.

Natasha was just starting to nod off when she was woken by Harry stroking her cheek. "Wake up sleepy, we're there"

She squinted, confused. "What? Oh, right... I'm sorry, did I fall asleep"

Harry nodded stepping easily out of the boat onto the small wooden jetty, turning to help her, which Natasha was grateful for given how stiff her legs were.

"You did, just for a few minutes. I would say you looked adorable, but I kind've like my face the way it is"

She scowled ferociously. "Good choice"

Beineon came to stand behind them, putting his hand on Harry's shoulder, turning them around. Beside him, Harry heard Natasha gasp. In front of them, rising out of the mist was the Tor, truly an Isle in this time. A path, lit by flaming torches, led in a spiral up the steep slope.

"You go on alone from here my friends. I hope that you find whatever it is that you seek. When you are ready I will take you back to your time..."

"Thank you my friend. We will see you soon." Harry turned back to Natasha, holding his hand out. "Come on, time to stretch the kinks out of your legs."

"Lovely" she grumbled. "Can't we call a cab?"

"Well technically we could apparate. But sometimes the walk is part of the process. Part of the ceremony. A time to prepare..."

Natasha muttered something under her breath about new-age mumbo-jumbo, but set off along the path at a good pace.

Half way up the path they reached a large flat topped boulder, under an oak tree where they were clearly supposed to stop and rest. Harry took two bottles of water from his bag, passing one to Natasha before laying back, taking a few grateful breaths, looking into at the tree thoughtfully. "Interesting"

Natasha was looking across the landscape, trying to wrap her mind around the complete absence of any signs of human habitation. "What is it?"

"Did you know that oak trees feature heavily in Druidic worship, and do you see up there...?"

"What am I looking for?"

"Mistletoe. The Golden Bough"

"The what?"

Harry chuckled. "You really need to brush up on your Norse mythology you know. We're back to your friend Loki"

Natasha snorted. "Oh he's no friend of mine. What's the connection?"

"It's been a while since I read any Norse mythology myself, but the legend goes something like this. Thor had a brother. Baldur the Beloved as I recall, who was loved by all things. But – and I'm a bit sketchy at this part – I think that Frigga had a vision of his death – or he did, I forget. But anyway, Frigga extracted a promise from all living things that they wouldn't harm him – except the mistletoe, because how could that harm anyone?"

"Did it?"

He nodded. "Loki the trickster persuaded a blind god who's name eludes me to throw a spear made of mistletoe at Baldur and it killed him. Whether he _meant_ to kill him isn't clear."

"What happened to Loki?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't remember. There are various punishments attributed to Loki in the myths. Something about being chained to a tree, having his lips sewn up..."

"Ouch"

"...yeah, ouch. But the worst was the snake. He was chained to a rock while this snake dripped venom in his eyes and face."

"Sucks to be him. I didn't like the guy but still... that's horrible."

Harry watched her expression closely. "He got to you...?"

"He's a murdering psychopath with blood on his hands. But no more so than me. I didn't like him, but he was ... clever... Could probably be charming if he put his mind to it... and tough, tough as a cockroach."

"A worthy adversary?"

"Yes. A worth adversary." She rose, holding out her hand. "Come on, or it'll be dark before we get to the top."

They completed the rest of the journey in silence.

ooo0ooo

Both Natasha and Harry considered themselves fit, but they were both weary and breathing hard by the time they reached the top, looking around, a little bewildered.

Natasha's face fell. "There's nothing here Harry"

He shook his head. "Oh no, there's something here, there always is. We just have to find it." Carefully, methodically they searched the wooded hilltop, until a cry from Natasha brought him to a small clearing in the trees. Within the clearing was a small stone circle, and within the circle was a single tree.

"The Glastonbury Thorn. In our time it grows in the Abbey Grounds, but here…."

"Beyond the Arthurian basics, my knowledge of British mythology is a little sketchy. What is its significance?"

"You know the hymn – Jerusalem?" She nodded. "It's the Glastonbury legend. It tells of how Joseph of Arimathea – the friend that bequeathed a tomb to the crucified Jesus – was a merchant who travelled here, and planted his staff, which rooted into a thorn tree. The Glastonbury Thorn. Some of the stories even suggest that he brought Jesus with him, as a young man."

"You're full of stories aren't you Mr Magic Man. Who needs Wikipedia when I have you? But we still don't know what we have to do next."

Harry scowled. "Oh yes we do. I'm afraid that this is going to hurt…" Carefully examining the tree, he selected the longest, sharpest thorn - taking a deep breath he drove the it straight into his palm - into the cut he had made only a few hours earlier, closing his eyes at the arrow of pain that shot up his arm and into his shoulder. Behind him he heard Natasha gasp, her hand clutching his shoulder hard enough to bruise.

"Harry!"

Harry took a deep breath suddenly fragrant with herbs, and opened his eyes. The woods had vanished without a trace; instead they stood in a courtyard, filled with small beds of herbs. A spring ran through a number of small channels around the beds, filling the courtyard with its music. The buildings around them were low, primarily single story, with pale walls and tiled roofs. The effect was not dissimilar to a reconstruction of a Roman villa that Harry had visited once. The sound of footsteps on the gravel path behind them caused them both to turn.

"Welcome to my home Harry Potter. Natasha Romanoff, you too are most welcome. It has been many, many centuries since a muggle entered this place. Your quest must be grave indeed."

The speaker was a small woman, only a little over five feet tall, plump and reassuring. Had she been a mortal woman, Harry would have guessed her to be in her late thirties or a little older. Long dark red hair hung in a simple braid down her back. She wore a very plain long dress of a deep blue cloth, with a paler hooded cloak over her shoulders.

"I am Branwen, Keeper of this house and all it protects. Please, enter and be welcome; for the day draws to its close and you must be weary. A room has been prepared for you; refresh yourselves, and we will speak further over supper. My apprentice will show you to your room."

Harry bowed, a little awkwardly. "We thank you for your hospitality Lady Branwen, we will see you at supper." Taking Natasha's hand, he followed the young girl, who looked no more than twelve, through a doorway and into a second courtyard, full of herbs and flowers like the first, but with a tall obelisk at its centre. Water flowed from the heart of the stone into a multitude of channels, and Harry realised that this was probably the water source for the spring in the first courtyard. On the far side of the courtyard, was another low building, with a covered veranda. Their guide led them up to one of the doors laid a hand on the dark wood and murmured an incantation before stepping back.

"Please, enter Sir, my Lady. I will return for you in two hours to conduct you to supper." With a bobbed curtsy she slipped away into the lengthening shadows.

Natasha looked at the door a little apprehensively. Harry smiled reassuringly. "Relax. We made it. If they wanted to stop us it would have been much easier to just stop us at the portal, rather than letting us get here then try to get rid of us." Reaching out he took her hand. "Sometimes a doorway – is just a doorway. Come on"

The room was simply furnished, with a lot of wood, and natural wools and linens, the bed, nowhere near the size of Harry's at home, but perfectly adequate for two. A table and a small mirror, capable of serving as a dressing table or as a worktable stood under the window. Peering around a side door, Natasha was relieved to find washing facilities that were basic, but recognisable.

"It appears we're expected to dress for dinner."

Turning she saw that Harry had opened another door, which proved to be a small wardrobe, filled with clothing similar to that worn by Branwen and her apprentice.

"Well it's a change from black leather I suppose…"

Natasha took a deep breath, scented with old wood, herbs and the beeswax candles which filled every nook and alcove of the room and felt herself relax for the first time since they had crossed the threshold of the portal. She found herself suddenly and uncharacteristically tired. Seeing her expression, Harry wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer.

"We have a little time before we need to change for dinner, why don't you have a nap".

It was Natasha's first instinct to refuse, that only children and old ladies took naps in the afternoon; but she was very weary, and the bed, with its soft deep blue cover, looked very tempting.

"Well I suppose, if you put that way. Are you joining me?"

Harry had been just about to say no, when he found himself smothering a huge yawn. Natasha smiled. "Well I guess that answers my question".

The fate of the world hung in the balance, and their enemies were amassing against them, but for a little while, in a sanctuary beyond time, Harry and Natasha slept in peace.

ooo0ooo

Almost two hours later, having washed up and changed, Harry smoothed his hair as best he could and surveyed his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Like the rest of the House of Branwen it was lit by a multitude of small lamps, which lit magically whenever the room was entered. The soft robe of unbleached wool, tied at the waist with a braided leather belt which had been provided for him was not that dissimilar to wizarding robes, but after weeks in muggle clothing it seemed very strange. He wondered what Natasha would think. Opening the door he stopped, smiling at the sight before him.

Natasha was seated at the table by the window, brushing out her hair. Generally she either plaited it or wore it in a simple pony tail, but tonight it appeared she was wearing it down in shimmering waves of red and brown. Seeing him watching her in the mirror she rose, looking a little uncertain. Harry could well understand her discomfort in such an unfamiliar situation, but there was no reason, the long dress not dissimilar in style to the one worn by Branwen that afternoon, was a wonderfully flattering shade of blue and fitted perfectly.

"Relax, you look beautiful."

But the small, stressed frown didn't fade. "I don't like this Harry. I should have waited in London… I don't belong here. This is your world, not mine."

"Tash, believe me, this isn't even my world. I'm as out of my depth here as you are." He smoothed his hand over her hair, coiling it in a thick smooth rope over his fingers, drawing her closer for a kiss, which was only broken by a tap on the door.

Harry muttered a curse under his breath. "One moment…"

He retrieved two cloaks from the back of the cupboard, settling the smaller over Natasha's shoulders. "Come on. It'll be supper for three or maybe four, maximum, not a state banquet. You'll be fine." Opening the door, he found the apprentice waiting patiently on the doorstep, lantern in hand. "Good evening"

"Good evening Sir, my Lady. Please follow me…"

Branwen's apprentice led them through another door opening off their courtyard, and down a long flagged corridor. At the end of the corridor she placed a hand on a door, which swung open at her touch. "Please go in. Lady Branwen will be with you very shortly. There is wine on the side table, please help yourself." With a small bobbed curtsy she withdrew, closing the door softly behind her

Natasha looked around appreciatively at the comfortable and simply furnished room. "This is lovely, Lady Branwen has excellent taste." She moved to the large fireplace, stretching chilled fingers to the flames.

"Thank you Natasha. I'm pleased that you like it." The Russian whirled, taken by surprise, having not heard their hostess enter. "I am sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. I have been told I am very soft footed."

Natasha flushed and turned back to the fire, feeling awkward and out of place. To diffuse the sudden tension, Harry, who was at the side table, offered to pour Branwen a drink but his hostess declined with a smile. "Thank you, no Mr Potter. I drink only water, but please, help yourself"

"Please, call me Harry"

Branwen smiled. "Harry it shall be then. Is your room satisfactory?"

Natasha accepted a goblet of wine from Harry with some gratitude, taking a steadying sip. The wine was flavoured with something, certainly honey, and something else she couldn't put her finger on. "The room is lovely, thank you. As is this wine."

"I am glad you are comfortable. Please don't hesitate to ask Aria if there is anything that you need."

Harry nodded thanks, assuming Aria to be her apprentice. "Is it just the two of you here?"

Branwen shook her head. "I have a couple here who see to mine and Aria's needs. You will have already met Beineon when you arrived."

"The boatman?"

"That's right. He also tends the garden, and does any odd jobs. His wife Chara is an excellent cook I think you will find." A small bell was heard nearby. "Supper is ready. Come, let us go through."

She led them across the corridor to another room where three places were laid at a scrubbed wooden table with wine goblets and platters of bread and fruit already set out. Tall windows down one wall – shuttered tightly against the night air tonight – would doubtless open the room onto the scented courtyard in the summer. A blazing fire at one end of the room drove out any possible chill.

The meal was as good as they had been promised. A simple spiced stew of pulses and vegetables was followed by platters of cheeses to go with the fruit and bread. Jugs of wine and water accompanied the food. During the meal they talked of this and that, waiting to address the issue of their mission until they returned to the sitting room, where Harry finally showed Branwen the information they had gleaned so far. Their hostess studied the documents carefully, before leaning back in her chair, gazing into the flames thoughtfully.

"You were right to come here on this errand. I believe that the resources of this house will be able to help you. Breakfast will be brought to you tomorrow, after which Aria will call for you, and we will consult my library together. In the meantime, tell me of those that hunt you. Beineon tells me that in spite of your best efforts you are being followed, and there is the possibility that your enemies will await you when you return to your own place and time. Tell me of them."

Natasha leaned back in her seat and thought for a moment. "Are you aware of the terrible events that took place in the non … in the muggle world in the first half of the twentieth century?"

Branwen nodded. "You speak of the two great wars I presume"

Natasha nodded. "Adolf Hitler's forces – the forces of the Third Reich as he named them, had a research division. Both Hitler, and the head of this division, a man named Johann Schmidt had an obsession with the search for ancient artifacts…"

Harry settled back in his seat and listened as Natasha outlined a similar tale to the one he had heard what seemed like weeks ago in Kingsley's office. When she had finished Branwen took a deep breath. "And it is these people, this – HYDRA – who seek this thing, this source of power?"

Harry and Natasha nodded.

"Then you were most certainly right to come here. When we meet in the morning, we will consult with the wisdom of the ancients. In the meantime, I will must bid you a good night."

When she had left them, Harry and Natasha finished their drinks, and walked slowly back to the courtyard. Even in the night time chill it still held the faint scent of herbs and flowers. Natasha paused to brush her hand over a lavender bush, savouring the lingering sweetness. "It must be lovely here in the summer. So different from New York."

"Is New York home these days?"

She shrugged. "I suppose home is Avengers' Tower for now… no … home is where my friends are, Clint, Cap, Bruce, even Tony and Thor."

"You could just give it up. Stay here. In London I mean, not here on the Isle"

"With you? "

"If you wanted to. Or if you're not keen on Britain we could travel. I… I have money. We wouldn't have to work…"

"What about your work here?"

"I've been saving the world since I was eleven years old Tash. They have to learn to do without me at some point."

"So... we just run away?"

Harry pulled her against him, his other hand cradling the back of her head. "We do whatever you want… no… don't answer now…." He was dropping small kisses on her forehead, her closed eyes, cheek and jaw. "…just promise me you'll think about it Tasha."

She shivered under his touch, wrapping her arms around his waist, her lips ghosting over his. "I'll think about it. I'm not promising, but I'll think about it."

So engrossed were they, in the moment, that they were both unaware of the eyes watching them from the shadows.

"Lady Branwen…Does he know what has been promised, do you think?"

"It appears not Aria."

"Should we inform anyone of this…. development?"

Branwen shook her head and turned away "No. Let us see what the fates decree for these two. I suspect that, in despite of whatever has been planned and plotted by others, they will work out their own destiny. Bed for you now child, it is late and we have much to do in the morning if we are to solve this mystery."

"Goodnight Lady Branwen"

"Goodnight Aria"

With a last look over her shoulder at her two guests, now heading for their own room, utterly engrossed in one another, Branwen made her own way to bed and all was silent.


	9. Chapter 9

_Welcome back, and first a few thank you. Firstly to you all for reading, supporting and reviewing these chapters. Secondly, a particular mention to Amir-015 for some really interesting PM discussions over the last few weeks, and finally to Miss Kitty Black who listened patiently to my woes, supplied chocolate and sympathy then handed me my laptop and told me to get the f*** on with it. Consequently, having been late with my last chapter, I am now back on track._

 _To those that are celebrating this weekend, Happy Easter, and may the Easter Bunny bring you many nice things..._

 _Mild sleepy, early morning shenanigans at the beginning of this chapter, but nothing to cause any concern._

 _Enjoy._

 _Merrick x_

It was pure chance that the first rays of sun to rise high enough to filter through the trees and strike the walls of the House of Avalon, should find their way through the only chink in their shutters and straight into Natasha's eyes, making her scowl, and turn into the pillow with a small grumble of discontent. But she was awake, and once awake, some things could not be ignored. After a few minutes she huffed irritably and slid out of bed, stumbling a little as she headed toward the bathroom. Emerging a few minutes later, she paused, leaning against the door frame, eyes uncharacteristically soft, as she watched the figure sprawled across the bed.

The single beam of light in the otherwise dark room illuminated Harry, hair in all directions, long body utterly relaxed, stretched out on his back, one arm reaching across to her side of the bed as if trying to find her.

"There is temptation and then there is you Harry Potter" she murmured under her breath, crawling carefully over the bed to where the covers tangled low around his hips, allowing her lips to drift over the smooth skin of his stomach, following the groove etched in his musculature downwards, feeling him stir slowly beneath her."

"…Tasha?"

"Shhh"

Looking up she caught that slow sleepy smile as the green eyes opened, the smile that tugged something deep inside her, making her want things she'd never allowed herself to consider before. Taking a moment she rested her cheek against his hipbone, breathing deeply. "Good morning. I'm sorry, I couldn't resist."

Reaching down he pulled her back up the bed for a kiss. "Good morning to you too. And please, continue to not-resist. You won't catch me objecting." Natasha sighed contentedly against his neck. It was hours until breakfast, she was warm, comfortable, there was no rush. Harry's fingers trailed lazily over her skin making her squirm suddenly as he touched a sensitive spot over her ribs. The fingers froze.

"Tash?" She looked up to see a mixture of mischief and desire on Harry's face. "Tash... are you ticklish...?"

ooo0ooo

Lady Branwen and Aria were returning from their customary dawn meditation a few minutes later when the silence was shattered by squeals and laughter from the guest quarters. While her young apprentice flushed and looked awkward, Branwen chuckled softly. "It appears that our guests are awake early this morning. Would you inform Chara that we will break our fast in..." she paused, smiling as she heard the laughter subside to a series of soft murmurs that were still clearly audible in the Isle's silence "...perhaps we'll give them an hour". Seeing her apprentice's face fall she flicked her cheek affectionately. "Ask Chara child, I'm sure she will have something to help you survive until breakfast. Now run along." Branwen watched indulgently as her apprentice ran swiftly through the arch into the second courtyard, heading for the kitchens, before returning to her library.

ooo0ooo

Breakfast for Harry and Natasha arrived an hour later, courtesy of Chara, Branwen's cook and housekeeper. Once the door was closed, Harry eyed the tray, laden with tea, fresh baked bread, preserves and fruit and sighed gustily. "Coffee... I knew I should have brought coffee" He looked up at Natasha, eyes hopeful. "I don't suppose you have any stashed away in your top secret spy suitcase by any chance?"

"Sorry Harry. I've got all sorts of stuff in here that would rock your world, but sadly no coffee. I'll make sure it gets added for future missions. In the meantime I'm afraid it's tea or nothing..." Harry huffed mournfully and accepted a cup with ill-grace.

They had finished breakfast, and were lurking in the garden, uncertain of their next move, when Aria appeared in the archway. "Sir, my Lady. If you are ready, Lady Branwen requests that you meet her in the Library."

As they followed her, at a little distance, Harry bent to murmur into Natasha's ear. "Is she real do you think, or just some kind of projection, like your friend Stark's AI? She just seems to pop up out of the woodwork whenever we need her."

Natasha watched the girl's retreating figure. "I wonder who she is and how long she's been here."

Harry shrugged, preferring his more fanciful storyline. "I dunno. She looks about twelve to me"

"Really Harry? And how old do you think Branwen is? You think she's the... what... thirty five or so that she looks. I very much doubt it. She could be a thousand years old, and we'd be none the wiser"

"I suppose. Like your mate Thor and his whackjob brother."

"Exactly. You want to know something really bizarre?"

Harry stood politely back to allow Natasha through another of the house's heavy wooden doors. "I love bizarre, go on"

"Thor's brother, Loki is just over a thousand years old right." Harry nodded. "Well if you look at that in the context of an average Aesir lifetime of around about five thousand years, then compare it to an average human lifetime of around eighty years..." Harry blinked and frowned, maths had never been his strong suit. Natasha huffed "I know you're short on caffeine Harry, but please try to keep up. Anyway, as I was saying... if you translate Loki's age into human years, he's what... eighteen, nineteen, tops."

Harry was unable to suppress a snort of amusement, causing Aria to turn back sharply. Seeing they appeared to be alright, she returned to her former brisk pace. "So your saying what? That he's a messed up teenager?" And that blowing up half of Manhattan is just a way of getting back at Mum and Dad?" Seeing Natasha's face, he stopped " _Is_ that what you're saying?"

Natasha frowned. "You know. I'm not sure what I'm saying to be honest... it's just... strange I guess. Another messed up childhood."

Harry rested a hand on the back of her neck, surprised at the pang that small worried frown caused him. "There's a lot of us about Tash... there's a lot of us... Ah. Here we are I think." Aria had stopped at a pair of double doors, heavier and more ornately carved than the others. Murmuring a soft incantation under her breath, she placed her hand palm down, on a circular panel, noticeable for it's lack of decoration. With a loud click, the door lock released, swinging open easily. Aria stepped back respectfully.

"Please enter and be welcome. Proceed to the table, and look to your left. I believe Lady Branwen is awaiting you by the fireplace." As they walked past her, she looked up at Harry and smiled. "And I will speak to Chara. Lady Branwen prefers tea, as do I, but I believe that she may have some coffee for you Sir."

Harry's grin could have lit the whole room... "Aria, you are a treasure. Thank you so much." He shrugged ruefully. "I'm quite happy with tea the rest of the day, but in the morning..."

"Harry. You have to look at this!" Natasha's awed tone drew him irresistibly forward as Aria left them, closing the door with a flick of her fingers. Harry turned back to watch her curiously. Aside from the whole security systems on the doors - which could just as easily be technology, this was the first sign of actual magic he had seen since their arrival on the Isle.

"Harry... ?"

"Coming". Turning around, Harry was unable to suppress a gasp of amazement. Like a certain well know blue police box in the muggle world, the Library of Avalon was undoubtedly considerably larger within than without, with aisles of towering shelves stretching as far as the eye could see on both sides. "Incredible. Just incredible. Thank God Hermione doesn't know about this place. We'd never get her out again."

"On the contrary Harry. Miss Hermione Granger is a long standing friend of this house. She has been visiting regularly since your great victory, usually during the summer months..." Branwen rose from her chair by the fireplace, setting the book on her lap carefully onto a side table... "and I can categorically say that she does always leave, albeit reluctantly."

"Amazing..." As Harry's eyes surveyed the immediately area, they widened in recognition. "What the... what is _that_ doing here?" Among the books on the shelves were a number of heavy glass cases, all of them shimmering with magical wards. Stepping a little closer, he looked back at his hostess. "This is Ravenclaw's Diadem surely. But this is... intact"

"Indeed. The greatest historical and magical artifacts in the Nine Realms may be brought here, safely out of time. The diadem you see is restored to its former glory, free of the taint of evil. The destruction that you saw was only the destruction of the darkness that had infested it, not the artifact itself, which was brought here following the battle."

As Harry studied the diadem, now restored to it's gleaming glory, Natasha tugged impatiently on his arm. "Harry look at this... It couldn't... Dumbledore said... Can this be?" In another glass case on another shelf was a heavy bronze cup, plain, a little battered, crudely made. But the power coming off it... even through glass and heavy wards Harry could feel it in great waves. Wide eyed he turned back to Branwen, who smiled.

"Oh yes Harry. It is indeed. If it is The Grail that your enemies seek they will be gravely disappointed. But somehow I doubt it."

Harry took Natasha's hand, coaxing her reluctantly back to the fireplace. "What makes you think that?"

"Because the papers you showed me referred specifically to Merlin. The Grail was Arthur's quest. Besides, this would not be the first time that evil men have sought The Grail and failed. It may be the same group of people if they have, as you say, been active for many years. If it is then they will be all too aware that it lies far beyond their mortal reach. But come, let me show you around. I regret to tell you that your search will not be a straightforward one, there is no catalogue, no card index to this Library I'm afraid and even I do not know _exactly_ what lies upon these shelves "

Natasha looked around and shook her head. "This reminds me of ... a movie I once saw."

Harry smiled in recognition, "Of course, The Librarian, wasn't it. Not the greatest work in film making history, but entertaining." He looked around in mock-alarm. "I'm not about to be chased by Excalibur am I?"

Branwen continued to lead them through the shelves, smiling serenely. "Of course not Harry, what a fanciful notion. Rest assured that Excalibur is firmly in it's place over the main door, and there it will stay. Chased by swords indeed..." Looking over her shoulder, she realised that Harry and Natasha were rooted to the spot, mouths open. "Please stay with me, it would not do for you to get lost. Ah, here we are, the Merlin Archives are on these shelves here." She indicated a pair of shelves crammed full of dusty volumes, and boxes full of papers, rolled scrolls and what appeared to be maps. "How is your Latin?"

Harry's face fell. How had he not considered this? Seeing his expression, Natasha closed her eyes. "Just me then. Isn't there a spell that can help with this kind of thing?"

"Maybe. There's a couple I can try, but I don't know how they'll deal with historical Latin, and handwritten at that"

"Lovely"

Branwen smiled. "Well, Aria and I may be able to render some assistance, but there are other demands on our time. In the meantime I will leave you to it. I will arrange for Chara to bring you lunch to the fireplace area. I would be grateful if you could keep food and drink away from the documents. Please remember that these are unique historical artifacts, that require careful handling. Now if you will excuse me, I will return to check on you later." Just as she was leaving she paused and turned back. "I'm sorry, I forgot two things. You are now allowed to use the door over there..." she indicated through the shelves to the windows that looked over the garden "... as you wish, but the main doors require either Aria or myself to open them. If you require any assistance in the meantime, please ring the bell by the fireplace. I would appreciate it if you did not... explore... the house unaccompanied. This place is of vast antiquity, and holds many secrets. I would advise ... caution."

Harry nodded in agreement. "Thank you Lady Branwen. Believe me when I say that we have more than enough to do here. I don't believe that we will have any time to wander.

"In that case..." there hostess smiled. "I wish you luck on your quest.

ooo0ooo

It had been another long day. The sun had long since set, and another supper taken in the library. Natasha carefully rolled yet another scroll, wincing as her neck cracked audibly. Rubbing it, she was unaware of the long smear of dirt left across her skin. "Are you sure that we can't do this magically?"

Harry rubbed his eyes wearily, silently thanking the Healer that had fixed his eyesight all those years ago. Even perfect eyesight wasn't helping the massive headache that was looming right now though.

"We daren't. These are irreplaceable and very fragile. Magic is just too… risky. Even _gemino_ can cause minor stress to the parchment."

" _Gemino_?"

"Duplication charm. Works best on less… damageable objects. We were lucky that that translation charm we used didn't scorch the parchment, it was a close run thing."

She nodded, thinking. "Like Gemini? That makes sense." Like Harry she rubbed her eyes wearily. "There's shelves of documents here relating to Merlin and Arthur, and I'm the only one of the two of us that can read Latin. We've already been looking for three days. Not that I'm not enjoying hanging around in libraries with you, but we need to find this thing."

Harry nodded tersely. "I know, but there's nothing. Lots of travelling, lots of campaign records, but no mention of weapons, or secrets or anyone called Caron. We have to have this wrong somewhere."

Natasha stood up, stretching the kinks out of her spine. "I agree, but I have no idea _where_ we're wrong, and until we work that out I guess we just keep going – one foot in front of the other. Time to grab the next box Magic Man."

Harry smiled "That I can do." Reaching for his wand, he levitated another crate off the shelves. Silently, they both got back to work.

ooo0ooo

Two days later they were no closer to an answer…

Natasha had done nothing but trawl through pages of hand written Latin script for days and was tired and irritable… Harry was bitterly frustrated by the slow progress, but even more so by his inability to help her. Frayed tempers had not been helped by the fact that all meals but breakfast had been taken in the library since their first meal with Branwen. Things finally came to a head late one night when yet another box of scrolls had proved unhelpful; Harry had wanted to do one more but Natasha had had enough. The spat had been brief, but ferocious enough for Harry to be grateful for the fact that Natasha did not to carry weapons in the house. It had finally ended with her flinging out of the library in a torrent of angry Russian. He had heard their bedroom door slam decisively, and decided that he would explore Branwen's library for another hour or so. They had, after all, spent far more hours than was healthy in each other's exclusive company recently. It was hardly surprising that things had blown up eventually. Turning away from the window onto their courtyard, he headed for the more modern volumes at the far end of the room.

He was still sitting in an armchair by the fire three hours later, surrounded by piles of books, when Branwen herself came in with a tray of tea. She paused, uncertainly, when she saw that Harry was alone.

"I saw the lamps still alight and assumed you were both still up. Is everything alright Harry?"

Harry looked up from his booked and smiled ruefully. "What do you get when you put an immovable object and an irresistible force in the same room for _far_ too long"

"Oh dear" she gestured towards another chair. "Do you mind?"

When Harry nodded, she sat down, pouring them each a cup of tea. "Still no progress?"

Harry put his book down and leaned back in his chair with a sigh. "Nothing. It feels like a wild goose chase. No reference to Merlin's greatest treasure, or of this guy Caron. Hydra's going to use this weapon to take over the world, we can't solve the mystery and now Tash and I are at each other's throats. It's hopeless."

Branwen smiled serenely. "Nothing is ever hopeless Harry, you of all people know that. All it takes is a little faith and a lot of perseverance. Now drink your tea while it is hot."

Harry looked at " _A History of Early Christian Monasticism"_ with disfavour "My Latin is almost non-existent, so the worst of it has fallen on Tash's shoulders. It's been kind of you to come in and help us though."

"It's been my pleasure. There is a lot in those cases that even I have not read. I am sorry that I have not been able to spend more time with you."

"You've been most kind Lady Branwen." Harry tilted his cup. "Thank you for the tea."

She gestured to the book. "A little light reading?"

"A little background reading. I thought it might help"

"Did it?"

"Not really"

Harry sipped his tea and closed his eyes, thinking. Something that Branwen had said nibbled at the edges of his mind. Rather than chase it, he turned his mind to other things, allowing it to quietly take root. It was a skill he had acquired over the years of investigation with the Aurors.

"Why are you here Lady Branwen?"

"Why are any of us here?"

He smiled. "You know exactly what I mean. What do you do here – when you aren't entertaining visitors?"

"That, Mr Potter, is classified, as you would say. Although it is nice to have visitors, it makes a pleasant change."

" _Change….."_ mused Harry " _… in faith. Oh for the love of…."_ Setting aside his tea, he riffled rapidly through the volume on his lap, before setting it aside again with a hollow groan of frustration.

"What is it Harry?"

Harry's head was in his hands. "I can't believe we could be so _stupid_ ". Returning to the table he snatched up one of the sheets of paper from the Chester Cathedral archives.

"Alun of Caerfyrddin, _in faith, Brother Caron"._ He slammed his hands on the table in sheer frustration. "Shit! We got so hung up on Brother Caron and his writings that we completely forgot that he wasn't a bloody monk when he hid his... whatever it is. We've spent nearly a week looking for the wrong fucking guy."

In the distance a number of relics were vibrating quietly but distinctly in their cases. On the wall above the door, Excalibur shifted uncertainly on its mountings. Branwen rose, looking a little alarmed. "Mr Potter. I understand your feelings, but I must ask you to please moderate your language and to calm yourself, firstly because good manners are a rule of this house, and secondly because the magical vibrations you are giving off are upsetting some of our more... er... sensitive artifacts."

Harry was silent for a moment, mind focused inward, collecting himself…

"Lady Branwen, I apologise for any offence I have…." He paused head flying up, eyes seeking the still open door onto their courtyard, their quest forgotten, attention wholly focused on the faint but discernible sounds of distress coming in through the door. Under any other circumstance he would never have heard it, even in the echoing silence that covered the Isle, but his ears had always been very finely tuned for trouble.

"… Excuse me Lady Branwen" Harry rose and strode from the library. There was only one person that could be making those noises…

Wand in hand, Harry silently approached their bedroom door, easing it open slowly. The room was in darkness, except for a single lamp, which illuminated the restless figure on the bed.

"Tash, are you OK sweetheart?" Her eyes were screwed tight shut, hands clawing at the blankets wrapped tightly around her body, fast asleep. There was no sign that she had heard him.

Harry paused, considering carefully. Regardless of their.. whatever this was, Tash was a highly trained killer, a beautiful and deadly weapon. Magic or no, if taken by surprise, in the grips of her nightmare, she could probably snap his neck before she even woke up. Care was needed here.

Murmuring soothing nonsense, he took one hand, rubbing gentle distracting patterns into the back. "Tash, Tasha sweetheart, it's only a dream. It's only a dream honey, time to wake up. Tash – you need to wake up now – come on now, it's only a dream, only a dream."

With a choked cry, Natasha's eyes flew open, pupils wide and shocked. "Harry?"

Less wary, now she was awake, Harry wrapped an arm around her, drawing her carefully against his shoulder. "You were having a nightmare sweetheart. Just a nightmare…" The slender body in his arms took a deep shuddering breath and finally relaxed against his shoulder.

"Thanks for waking me up."

"Any time" Harry ran a hand over her sleep mussed hair. "This isn't the first time this has happened is it? D'you want to talk about it?"

The 'no' was somewhat muffled by his shoulder, but was quite clear nonetheless.

"OK, but take it from me… In my lifetime I've had far more than my fair share of nightmares – maybe not as many as you, but it does give me some credibility… and the one thing I do know is that nightmares rarely go away on their own. Sooner or later you'll need to talk to someone about it… If not me, then someone else."

She sighed, eyes still averted. "I know"

"Branwen brought some tea to the library. Do you want to go back to sleep, or do you want to join us?"

Natasha lifted her face from his shoulder, rubbing her eyes on the back of her hand. "I guess I could use a break and tea sounds good. Give me a minute to just put something on." Swinging her legs out of bed, she slipped on a pair of jeans and without thinking, reached for a soft dark blue shirt of Harry's, rolling the sleeves up. Looking up as she reached for the door handle, she frowned. "What?"

Harry grinned. "It's such a cliché, but my shirt looks so good on you… it's a shame about the jeans though"

She smirked. "Fair enough, it's a deal. Next time I have the chance it'll be your shirt and nothing else" the smirk deepened at Harry's expression. "But to be honest, I'm not really in the mood at the moment, and even if I was I'd shock the hell out of Branwen if I turned up dressed like that."

Harry chuckled. "OK, I'll give you that." He looked down at her bare feet. "Did you forget something?"

She muttered a curse under her breath and looked around for the nearest pair of shoes. Harry however had other ideas. "I've got a better idea. Come here Agent Romanoff"

"Harry!" Natasha gave a muted shriek of protest as he swung her easily up into his arms… "Did anyone ever tell you that you have a flair for the dramatic."

Harry flicked a finger to close the door behind them, hefting her more securely into his arms. "Funnily enough, yes. My right hand man, Draco Malfoy… quite often as it happens."

"I'd like to meet this Draco Malfoy sometime. It seems we'd have a lot to talk about"

"For which reason I'm happy to keep you well apart. And on the subject of talking; while you were snoozing, I was talking with Branwen. It appears that I have had a revelation."

"Go on…"

Harry stepped carefully around the circular flower bed that surrounded the central obelisk.

"Well, do you want the good news or the bad news?"

Natasha huffed. "I suppose there's no chance of you just telling me is there? OK I'm Russian. Let's have the bad news first."

"Umm we've been looking for the wrong name…"

" _What!"_

"We've been looking for the wrong guy. It turns out that he only became Caron when he became a monk."

She closed her eyes. "Harry Potter, you do realise that I know 37 different ways to kill you with my bare hands alone? OK, tell me the good news."

"I know who we're looking for. Hell, I've a feeling we might even have come across him."

By now they were ascending the step up to the library doors. "So are you going to share with the class or are you planning on keeping it to yourself?"

"I am glad to see you well Natasha"

Harry set Natasha back on her feet as their hostess spoke from the fireplace. "I'm fine, thank you Lady Branwen. Bad dreams are a fact of life for me I'm afraid."

"I understand only too well . I live in peace and seclusion now, but my life was not always so… tranquil. I too have had my fair share of nightmares in the past. But I interrupt, please continue Harry"

Harry bent to conjure a third cup, to pour for Natasha. "Alun of Caerfyrddin, his name is Alun. Caron is the name he took as a monk. Apparently it's common practice, symbolising a new life and all that."

Natasha went very still. "Did you say _Alun?_ "

Harry nodded. "You remember something?"

"I remember more than something… Merlin's servant… no, more of an assistant. His right hand man as you would say Harry. According to the information we found he was with Merlin when he joined Arthur's forces, and remained with him until Merlin's disappearance after Arthur's death. He was by all accounts a man of humble birth, originally trained as a warrior, who was educated by Merlin in their time together."

" _W_ _arrior, sinner, scholar, servant to those who walk with Kings"_ Harry looked up at Natasha, wide eyed. "Tash… I think we've found him."

"But we still have no idea what we're actually looking _for_ Harry. We have the _who_ of this mystery, but not the _what,_ and most certainly not the _where._ "

Branwen smiled, indicating a newly opened book which she placed on the big oak table. "I think I might be able to help you there"

Ignoring the chairs, Natasha perched on the edge of the table, while Harry simply sprawled across it. "I don't remember seeing that book before."

Branwen permitted herself to look just a little smug. "That, my dear Natasha, is because you weren't looking in the poetry section which you will find to the left of the fireplace."

Natasha looked blank. "Poetry?"

"Indeed. It was purely by chance that I discovered this book." She ran a finger over the beautiful illustrated volume in her lap. "The original stories of Arthur and his Knights were not written down, they were sung and told around the fire, in inns, houses and great manorial halls."

Harry shook his head. "The Bardic tradition, of course"

"Indeed Harry. This is one of the earliest written copies of those stories, which have changed much in retelling and rewriting over the centuries. It mentions Alun of Caerfyrddin in only the vaguest terms, but it does give a great deal of information on other things. Of the ancient sword of Kings – Excalibur as it became known. Powerful not for any magical reasons but for what it represented, that he who wielded the sword ruled the kingdom."

"Headology" muttered Harry

"Head…what?"

"Terry Pratchett – one of my favourite muggle authors. I remember reading this conversation in my first year at school. Do you wear the hat _because_ you're a witch, or are you a witch because people see the hat and _believe_ you're a witch. The chicken or the egg thing. Pratchett called it Headology."

Natasha looked confused, but Branwen smiled. "An excellent if obscure analogy my friend. I too am familiar with the works of your Mr Pratchett. He has an interesting way of looking at things"

"OK. So the tales tell us about Excalibur, but what do they say about Merlin?"

Branwen paused a moment as she consulted the cramped, handwritten early English, frowning in concentration. "Well, they describe him as being tall and thin, with a large…." She peered closer "…nose, and eyes weakened by too much reading. He wears a long, heavy hooded cloak of a dark blue…. OH"

By now Natasha and Harry had forgotten their disbelief and were shamelessly peering over her shoulder. "What" they said together

Branwen looked up, face alight. "… See here… it tells us that he had a heavy staff, curiously carved, which he used for walking, but _also in his magic_ , in the way of a wand, and also of a large book, which he kept with him at all times in a heavy leather bag."

"Oh Gods!" exclaimed Harry "Of course. How could I be so _stupid. Merlin's staff and journal."_

"His journal?" Natasha looked baffled.

"A witch or wizard of Merlin's caliber" explained Harry patiently. "... would keep a journal. Not a diary, more than that - a personal record – of their thoughts, meditations, charms, potions and the like."

"So it's a book of spells"

"Basically yes. But more than that"

"And…the source of Merlin's power?"

Natasha and Harry looked at each other, hardly daring to believe how quickly things had swung from despair to elation.

"Oh shit Tash. I think we finally found it. …. We finally found it."

"Well strictly speaking Harry, we haven't found anything. But we do at least know what it is that we haven't found."

Harry huffed. "Natasha Romanoff. Can you please stop being so…. _Russian."_

Seeing Natasha's glower, Branwen stepped in. "It appears that you have made much progress tonight. But now, bed my children, it is very late and there is more work to be done tomorrow morning if you are to continue your quest. As you say, we have the _who_ and the _what._ Tomorrow we must consider the _where._ "


	10. Chapter 10

Hello and welcome back... things are starting to heat up now, so here goes...

Thanks to the Timeless Myths website for historical background information, and to all my lovely readers - over 1000 followers, which is beyond amazing 3

As always, I have no claim on Marvel, or JKR's characters, or on the myths and legends of Merlin, which I have taken some liberties with in this story. I don't make any profit from this story, and write it only for my, and your enjoyment.

 _Merrick x_

* * *

 _Harry opened his eyes to find himself alone in a thick fog. Looking down he saw that he was standing on rough, grass, close by he could hear the sound of waves against rocks._

" _Hello… is there anyone there?"_

 _The fog's damp chill was seeping through his clothes, making him shiver to his bones. He murmured a charm to counteract it, but to his consternation the charm had no effect._

" _Your craft has no power in these lands Harry Potter." Was it the fog that made it so hard to discern where the speaker was standing? It almost seemed that it was coming from all around him._

" _Who are you and what do you want with me?"_

" _Who I am is not important Harry Potter. Dark forces seek to control a power not their own and only you can stop them. When the time comes you will have to make a choice… will have to choose whether or not you are prepared to make the sacrifice"_

 _Fear clenched Harry's stomach. "What do you mean, I'll have to choose? Sacrifice what…?"_

 _The voice that answered was not the first voice. It was a female voice, warm and dearly familiar… "You must have faith Harry… It will all be alright."_

" _Mum?"_

 _The fog spun dizzyingly around him until he had to shut his eyes tightly to suppress a rising tide of nausea…_

" _Harry"_

 _His mother's voice made him open his eyes once again, to catch a quick glimpse of towering cliffs, a lighthouse and crashing waves, and at the foot of the cliff, a platform carved into the rock, leading to a narrow fissure, before the fog closed around him once more._

" _Harry!" This time the voice didn't sound like his mother's. In fact it sounded a lot like Natasha Romanoff. What was she doing here? Surely dreams about her should be rather more... fun?_

" _Harry! You need to wake up!"_

 _Wake up?_

"Harry"

Harry squinted against the light. "Whaa… Tash?"

"Now it's my turn. _You_ were dreaming this time. Nightmares?"

Harry ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. "Not really, more weird than scary… I saw… he was… she was… oh"

Natasha perched on the edge of the bed

"What did you see. Who was there…. Harry are you feeling alright?"

"Um… Yeah… Need coffee first. I think I have an idea, but I need to get my head straight."

Natasha nodded her head to the tray on a side table. "Breakfast is served. Help yourself. In the meantime, do I need to start packing my stuff?"

Harry nodded, heading for the coffee pot with a new purposeful look in his eye. "Yeah... maybe... there's something I need to look into first... I have a hunch that I might be onto something."

ooo0ooo

So determined was Harry that he didn't even stop for a proper breakfast, sending all his belongings flying magically around the room, landing haphazardly in his bag as he downed two cups of coffee in quick succession. With her usual efficiency, Natasha already had her bag by the door. She eyed it worriedly. "I hope that we're not jinxing anything..."

Harry put down his cup, eyes determined. "Back to the Library Tash. I have to brush up on the original Druids.

ooo0ooo

Branwen stood by the window for a moment, watching the plants outside tossing in the brisk wind.

"A thousand of your years ago, the Druid's were the priestly class of Celtic society. Scholars, judges, priests and teachers, they were honoured, respected and feared. Their rites were conducted not in churches or temples but in their vast oak groves and beside their remote and sacred lakes. To become a Druid was a serious matter, for it could take as long as twenty years of training to acquire their philosophy, divination, poetry, healing, religious rites and magic. And all this without committing anything to writing. For the Druids, their pupils were required to exercise their minds. It was a serious commitment.

The Druid's originated in Britton, but spread to Ireland and to the lands known then as Gaul. In Gaul, a Druid was a mediator between the mortals and gods; standing poised between worlds, and in the case of Irish and Welsh society, between the Otherworld and mortal planes. The druids derived part of their magic powers and their divinations from the Otherworld."

"So they weren't wizards as we know wizards"

Branwen shook her head. "Many would have been muggles, but for a young man with powers, born in poverty, it would have been a better option than labourer, servant or foot soldier."

"Merlin for instance?"

"No, there are a number of tales regarding Merlin's parentage, but the most likely is that he was the illegitimate son of a Welsh Princess who may or may not have been a nun."

"And his father"

Harry frowned, as Branwen hesitated, just for a second. "There is no written record of his parentage"

"But you know who his father was." It was a statement, not a question.

"In your modern muggle parlance Harry, that information is strictly 'need to know'. Will you accept my assurance that the identity of Merlin's father is not pertinent to this quest".

Natasha watched, fascinated, as Harry allowed the silence to stretch out until it sang in her ears. His pose was deceptively casual, fingers tracing random patterns on the table.

"So Merlin's father was from... Somewhere else… like you." Again, there was no question in his tone.

Branwen's face was expressionless. "That, Mr Potter, is none of your concern."

"So I'm right aren't I?"

"Shall we return to the subject in hand. As I said before, his parentage is not relevant in this case."

Harry sighed, reluctant to push his hostess unnecessarily. "So Merlin was raised as a Druid"

"He was the last of their kind, trained and practicing in secret"

"What happened to the others."

"Not long after the turn of the Millennium the Romans became uncomfortable with the level of power and authority wielded by the Druids, and claimed to disapprove of the their human sacrifices. Gradually their numbers and practices were driven out of Roman territories, eventually the survivors took shelter on one of their most sacred sites, a site they believed to be secure and defensible. Separated from the mainland by a difficult and dangerous body of water they must have been certain they were relatively safe." Branwen's face was distant and sorrowful, as though the tragedy had taken place only weeks, rather than centuries ago.

"The Romans, led by Suetonius Paulinus…" she spat the word like a curse "…managed to make the crossing, although many of his men and horses died in the process. The Druids were butchered, men women and children, and their sacred groves destroyed." She shook her head. "It was a bloody day's work, for they would not have gone peacefully into the shadows"

Harry nodded, as though at heart he had known all along.

"Anglesey".

ooo0ooo

Just under three hours later saw them walking back down the steep path from the top of the Tor. Unlike the day of their arrival the weather was cool and clear, and the views across the waterways and marshes that made the Tor truly an island were stunning. Dragging his eyes away, Harry focused instead on the redhead to his left. She had been quiet ever since they had bid a fond farewell to their hostess, with promises to return; now she strode alongside him, dressed for action in jeans, sweatshirt and boots, hair tied firmly back in a ponytail, hands in her pockets, eyes focused. She looked a million miles away from the woman he had kissed in Branwen's garden on their first night. Now she _looked_ like the Black Widow.

"Are you alright?"

"How did you know? About Branwen?"

"Just a hunch really. But what first got me thinking was something that she said when we first arrived in the Library... about the treasures of the _Nine Realms_. A witch from Earth, even one with all that knowledge at her disposal, is unlikely to be so aware of our place in the cosmos. All this stuff has come out in the last few years, since that business that went down in New Mexico."

"You don't think Loki...?"

Harry laughed. "No... for once all roads do not lead to his royal highness. If the numbers you gave me are true he would still have been very young by their standards. Far too young to be sneaking back down to earth to cause _that_ kind of trouble. We will probably never know..."

She shrugged her shoulders, not taking her eyes from the distant horizon. "When we leave... we have no idea whether we'll be stepping out of that portal in the middle of the afternoon, or the middle of the night. We also have no idea whether they will be waiting for us" Harry nodded. She finally slid her eyes sideways to watch him. "So what do we expect. Your kind or mine?"

Harry shook his head. "Difficult to be certain, but I would put my money on yours. As you say, HYDRA are predominantly a muggle organisation. But then they may be waiting for us to emerge from a magical portal in one of the most significant and powerful sites in the country. And there is this Araposa person..."

She sighed gustily. "So what you're really saying is you have no idea"

"Not a clue"

"Lovely"

They walked on for a while, not bothering to stop at the oak tree this time. Eventually they rounded the curve of the Tor and saw Beineon waiting by his boat. Seeing him, Harry reached out to take Natasha's arm, slowing her.

"Tash?"

"What is it Harry?"

"Talk to me"

For a long, long moment she said nothing, eyes on the distant horizon.

"Stupid really. It feels like the end of a holiday. Or when you realise it was all just a dream."

"What was just a dream?"

"Being normal. Going out for dinner, running on a Sunday afternoon… Now it's business as usual. Being shot at, beating the bad guys, saving the world."

"Like I said, it doesn't have to be that way. We could see this through then go… wherever you wanted."

She shook her head, "What makes you think that the world would ever let us go Harry? There's always going to be another threat. Sooner or later they'll want us back. A friend of mine… Bruce. He has a… problem."

"That wouldn't be a big angry green problem would it?"

She nodded smiling. "That would be the one. He keeps trying to hide, takes himself off to some backwater. Villages in Africa, the slums of Kolkata… He could find himself a tree in the middle of the Amazon rainforest and they'd track him down if they needed him badly enough."

"Trust me, there are ways and means, even for you and me…"

They were walking again now, but strolling gently, focused on one another, rather than the route march of a few moments ago. "So where _are_ we going?"

Harry shook his head. "For once Lady Branwen's library couldn't help me. What I need now is a computer and satellite mapping. That dream this morning. I spoke to… well I don't know what the first voice was about, but the second was… was my Mum, and she showed me this place which I thought I recognised, from a trip I made to Anglesey a few years back.

"But first we probably have to fight our way out of here."

"Yup. Good thing is that they are unlikely to be armed to the teeth." When she looked at him skeptically he smiled. "This isn't America, this is the UK. We have laws about random people wandering around with guns. Even the majority of the muggle police force don't carry them. While we can't discount handguns they couldn't carry anything any bigger without attracting the kind of attention they would be keen to avoid"

She checked the knives at waist, wrists and ankles and nodded tersely. "Knife work where possible it is then. Come on Mr Magic man, we have a boat to catch."

"Right behind you Agent Romanoff."

Even Beineon seemed ill-disposed to talk that morning, ferrying them smoothly and quietly over the dark water, penetrating blue eyes fixed on the distant shoreline. It was only when they were moments from disembarking that he turned to them.

"Remember my words. Those that pursue you may be waiting on the other side of the portal. I would aid you if I could, but my purpose must be to preserve the sanctity of the Isle at all costs. As soon as you step into the mortal world I have to close the way behind you. Be on your guard for whatever awaits, there will be no way back."

Harry smiled weakly. "I don't suppose we can apparate from this side of the portal, or would that be too easy?"

"Mr Potter, you are known as one of the most powerful mortal wizards now alive, but even you cannot apparate between worlds. The portal must be closed behind you before you can apparate safely"

Harry nodded tersely as he reached to help Natasha from the boat. Pole in hand Beineon led them to a ruined wall half hidden among the trees. Taking the pole he tapped out a complicated pattern, before reaching up to touch a stone right at the highest point. Gripping their hands briefly he stepped back. "Good luck my friends, may the powers of the Goddess go with you"

Like smoke in a breeze the stones in front of them swirled and melted to reveal the chilly shadows of a late Glastonbury evening. Wand and knives in hand they stepped cautiously through the portal every sense strained for the first sign of attack, but all was quiet and still.

Harry heard the soft sigh of the portal closing behind him with some relief – the last thing they needed was Hydra gaining access to the Isle and all that it guarded. Carefully watching each other's backs Harry reached for Natasha's hand to apparate them out of there… and was unable to suppress a yelp of shock as the crack of gunfire heralded a bullet that nearly took his right hand off, sending his wand flying across the garden. As Harry summoned his wand back to his hand, Natasha hurled herself across the grass, dodging a second bullet. The first gunman was already dead on the gravel path, neck broken, Harry fired a stunner at a second agent that came at her from behind, sending him reeling back, as a roundhouse kick from the Russian finished him too. Seconds later a flash of blue light flew from behind a hedge, sending Natasha crashing, immobile to the floor, just as Harry froze at the sound of a handgun being cocked, and the cold feeling of pressure in the back of his neck.

The voice behind him was female. Young, smooth and decidedly British. "Mr Potter. Please keep perfectly still and raise your hands. This weapon may be small, but take it from me that it is perfectly capable of shattering your spine at this range. I would advise absolute compliance"

Harry stayed perfectly still, feeling the pressure from the gun ease a little, the wand disappearing discretely from his hand, as a slender dark figure emerged from the shadows on the other side of the clearing, wand in hand. Dressed from head to foot in black, hair and face concealed it was impossible to tell whether they were even male or female. Striding across to the now helpless Natasha, Harry surged forward, realising at the last minute, what was about to happen. The pressure in the back of his neck increased once more, halting him in his tracks….

"Don't go doing anything we might both regret now Mr Potter. I'm quite prepared to kill you if I have to but there are …. certain parties that would prefer you both alive… for now."

Out of the corner of his eye Harry saw the dark figure stoop over Natasha's inert form. There was a sharp crack and the two figures disappeared before his eyes. Harry felt a searing flash of pain as the butt of the gun hit the back of his head hard and everything went black.

ooo0ooo

Draco Malfoy took a tentative sip of his canteen tea and winced – it was every bit as bad as he had feared. He put down his mug, rubbing his forehead gingerly, trying to sooth the headache that was building behind his eyes. It had been a quiet few days crime-wise, but the administration itself was a nightmare – no wonder Harry spent so much time at the office. He was just debating with himself over the advantages of giving up and coming in early on a semi-decent night's sleep, against burning the midnight oil and getting everything clear in one go when his reverie was interrupted by a sharp knock on the door.

"Come in" His eyebrows raised when Hermione Granger appeared in the doorway. "Hermione – what brings you to this floor? The Unspeakables not keeping you busy enough?" He hesitated, seeing her expression. "You do know Harry isn't around at the moment don't you?"

"I've just had a call from an Infirmary in the West Country." Seeing Draco's vacant expression, she huffed in frustration. "You know… a hospital. Honestly Draco – you really need to expand your knowledge of the Muggle world…"

Draco scowled. "No doubt you will tell me why this hospital is calling you in your own good time Granger. Or are you just here to prove that you are important enough to get telephone calls?"

Now it was Hermione's turn to glare. "There's no need to be so unpleasant Draco. I was about to tell you – it's Harry. They found him unconscious in a garden in Glastonbury, with two dead bodies, not any of ours thank goodness; Kingsley's office is handling the bodies, but Harry has a fractured skull and further hairline fractures to his cheekbone and jaw. It appears that he was hit over the back of the head and was unconscious before he hit the pavement - with his face. So far he has yet to regain consciousness and they're monitoring him for brain swelling. I'm in the process of trying to get him extracted back to St Mungo's – I have their best Muggle Relations people working on it as we speak."

Draco was out of his seat, reaching for his cloak. "So what are we waiting for Granger, come on?"

ooo0ooo

"Excuse me… We're looking for Harry Potter. I had a call from a Samantha Brown to say that he had been admitted."

The girl behind the desk barely looked up. "Have a seat"

Hermione took a deep breath trying to stay calm. "But he's got a head injury. He's unconscious"

She nodded, typing something into her computer. "Have a seat."

Hermione's eyes flashed, and her colour rose. "Now look here…."

Seeing the impending explosion, Draco stepped smoothly in…"Excuse me Miss…" easing his way around Hermione, he leaned casually over the desk, peering at the unhelpful girl's name badge… "Jenny. I wonder if you could help me?"

Jenny looked up, eyes widening a little in appreciation as she took in Draco's appearance, now in black muggle jeans, fitted grey sweater and black leather jacket. "I'm sure I can… Mr…err"

"Granger… David Granger. My wife and I are very worried about her brother – she got this call out of the blue – She's pregnant you know…. she's very upset. Obviously you are very busy, but I wonder if you could just take a very quick look and let us know where he is please? He has a specialist in London that needs to take a look at him – we need to make arrangements"

By now Jenny's cheeks were positively rosy. "Give me two minutes Mr Martin."

One minute later she was back. "Excuse me, Mr Granger... "

"David… please Jenny"

"D… David… I've found him. He's in the Head Injury unit. Ward 14. Take the lift to the seventh floor and turn left. If you report to the desk they'll be able to give you more details."

Draco gave her his _most_ charming smile – the one he usually saved for difficult members of the Wizengamot, and wheedling additional funding out of committees. "Jenny, thank you so much, you've been very helpful. Now you have a nice evening."

"You're welcome… I hope that your brother in law is alright."

Hermione restrained her frustration until she got into the lift. " _Pregnant?_ That has to be the single most nauseating display I've ever witnessed."

Draco shrugged, trying not to look smug. He failed, but hoped he got credit for trying. "Calm down Granger… it got us what we needed didn't it - and without attracting undue attention to ourselves?"

"Hermione" she snapped irritably. "Why are you calling me Granger all of a sudden? You haven't done that since we were at school"

"Because – _Hermione –_ you keep giving me the same disapproving glare that you used to reserve for me when we _were_ at school."

Hermione's shoulders slumped dejectedly. "I'm sorry Draco. You're quite right, and thank you for sorting that out. Now we just need to find out how Harry is and how we're going to get him out of here and up to St Mungo's before they decide they need to operate."

Draco frowned. "Operate?"

She nodded. "Surgery, to pin his jaw and cheekbone. Hopefully they won't need to take out a piece of his skull to sort out any bleeding"

She struggled to suppress a smile at Draco's look of frank horror as he turned even paler than usual. "They want to cut him _open_? That's… barbaric. Are we still in the dark ages?"

"Actually, if you don't have our magical alternatives, it's not a bad method. I just don't think that Harry will be up for the extended recovery time. Do we know what he was working on?"

Draco shook his head. "All I know is that he came in one morning and told me it was something classified from Kingsley himself. Basically it's need to know, and at the moment I don't"

Hermione looked bleak. "I have a feeling that might be about to change. Ah - finally" The lift had finally made it to the seventh floor. Emerging, they checked in at the nurses' station, before being ushered in to see Harry while they waited for the doctor. Harry was still out cold, one side of his face a mask of bruising and swelling, his head swathed in bandages. Leaving Hermione with him Draco slipped out to call Muggle Relations at St Mungo's for an update. He returned to find Hermione in conversation with a very capable looking Doctor. Draco was relieved to see that she looked much more relaxed – clearly whatever she was hearing was better new than she'd feared. Diplomatically, Draco decided to wait until they'd finished before slipping unobtrusively back into the room.

"How is he?"

Hermione, who had taken the seat by Harry's bedside, looked up. "As we were told he has a serious skull fracture consistent with the butt of a smallish handgun. This apparently knocked him out cold, so he couldn't break his fall. The Doctor thinks he must have landed on the left side of his face, causing the other fractures in his jaw and cheekbone and the loss of a couple of teeth; but it's the back of his head that's causing concern. There is some bleeding, which they are monitoring, but at the moment they are hoping to avoid surgery. If he stays here he might be looking at three to six months recovery time, possibly longer. We have to get him out of here."

Draco dropped a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Relax Hermione, I just called MR at St Mungo's. They'll be calling in shortly and expect to have him out of here within a couple of hours at the most. Did you mention anything to the Doctor?"

Hermione nodded. "I said that Harry was under a private consultant in London, and that they would probably be called about a transfer. He was very keen to keep Harry here - this is an excellent hospital, but I think I've convinced him. I don't think there's anything else we can say. I suppose we'd better update Kingsley. You'll need to get your MR department involved too, apparently the police were at the scene and will be back when he's awake to take a statement."

"I tried, but Kingsley's in conference and can't be disturbed, apparently he is talking to Quahog in New York. His PA promised that he'd call as soon as he can – he'll handle the muggle police. Did Harry have anything with him?"

Hemione looked contrite. "I'm sorry, I didn't even think to look." They found his belongings in a bag in the locker. His small backpack had what appeared to be a combination lock on the zip, but was actually a device to prevent accidental incursion by muggles. Hermione opened it with a sharp tap of her wand and a muttered incantation. Rummaging cautiously in the magically cavernous depths she found his wand with a sigh of relief. "He must have been taken unawares if he didn't have his wand in his hand."

Draco shook his head. "We are all trained to transport our wands into a secure place if we are compromised. Better that than have them fall into the wrong hands."

"That's brilliant. Can you teach me that sometime" For once Hermione looked seriously impressed. "Let's see if there's anything else interesting…..oh!" She pulled out a second pack, eyeing it dubiously. "Was Harry working alone?"

Draco was focused on Harry's wand and didn't look up. "I have no idea… Oh! I truly hope that he is working with someone – a female someone. If not, The Prophet is going to have a field day with this one."

Hermione eyed the lacy black bra with interest. "While it could be polyjuice, there doesn't appear to be any in his rucksack, so I think we can safely assume that Harry is _not_ cross dressing, and is in fact probably working with someone else. The question is, who?"

"I have no idea. No one that I know of. Kingsley will know… if we could ever get hold of him" He took the second chair and pulled it closer to the bed.

Hermione sighed. "So now we wait."

"So now we wait."

ooo0ooo

It took another hour before the transfer team finally arrived, and Hermione had to admit to being very impressed. No-one would have guessed that they were anything other than exactly what they purported to be, a specialist medical team from a private London hospital. Within an hour and a half all the paperwork had been processed, Harry was safely ensconced in a private room at St Mungo's and Draco and Hermione could finally breathe a sigh of relief.

Half an hour after Harry's arrival at St Mungo's, Kingsley arrived in person, sweeping Draco and Hermione into Harry's room, warding it against all comers.

"How is he?"

Leaving the second chair to Kingsley, Hermione perched comfortably on Harry's bed. "He has been magically transfused with Skelegro for his fractures, and given a combination of potions for the bleeding and swelling in his brain. They expect him to come out of it within the next couple of hours."

Kingsley sighed with relief. "And Agent Romanoff?"

Draco and Hermione looked at each other. "There was no-one else with him"

Kingsley swore softly under his breath. "So either she was a HYDRA plant, or HYDRA have her, neither of which is good. We have to hope that Harry will be able to tell us more when he wakes up. Will you floo call me when he does wake?"

Hermione nodded resisting the temptation to question him further. Kingsley rose. "Draco, will you stay here tonight?"

Hermione looked flustered. "Really, there's no need. I assume that this HYDRA is a muggle organisation, in which case they won't be able to get in anyway."

Kingsley shook his head, thinking of all he had learned of Araposa. "You can't guarantee that. Draco will stay with you. Be good you two. I will speak to you both in the morning if not before."

ooo0ooo

Harry awoke a few hours later, to find himself in what was indisputably a St Mungo's room. His vision was still a little blurry, and his head ached abominably, but under the circumstances he supposed it could have been worse. Feeling a weight on his legs he looked up to see Hermione, slumped fast asleep over the bed. By the door Draco was on another chair, also asleep. Somewhere there was a small irritating noise that he couldn't quite identify.

Eventually the noise stopped, only to start again a few minutes later. Eventually it penetrated Harry's still fogged brain that it was a mobile ringing – but not his – Tash. Tash's phone was ringing. Dragging himself up, ignoring the pain that spiked in his head as he did so, he looked around frantically for the source of the sound, finally locating his pack on the other side of the bed. Rummaging clumsily, he finally brought out Tash's Starkphone. He had no idea whether it would even work for him, but he had to try.

"Hello"

The voice on the other end of the call was male, and definitely american. "You aren't the owner of this phone"

"No. My name is Harry Potter"

There was silence for a moment, then the voice came back. "You're lucky that Jarvis matched your voice patterns from your previous conversation Mr Potter, if they hadn't matched, that phone currently pressed to your ear would have delivered an electrical charge straight into your brain, killing you instantly."

"Hmm. That makes a good case for hands free"

The voice on the other end chuckled, then was suddenly serious. "Mr Potter, can you tell me firstly why you are answering Natasha Romanoff's cellphone, and secondly, can you tell me why she has missed the last three check ins?"

"I will be happy to answer both questions if you will answer one. Who the hell are you?"

"My name is Tony Stark. You may have heard of me…"

"Oh yes Mr Stark. You, I've heard of"


	11. Chapter 11

Hello and welcome back, we're up to chapter eleven now with two possibly three chapters left. I know that the last chapter kicked up a few questions, and there won't be many answers in this one yet I'm afraid. Stick with me, we're nearly there.

Thank you to those lovely people who continue to support this story... I will try to get the final two chapters posted next weekend, but I'm struggling a bit with the denouement so bear with me if I'm a bit late. Especial thanks to those who take the trouble to post reviews - positive and/or constructive comments are always welcome. Posting to tell me the story is rubbish and you're not going to read any more is not constructive however and will be deleted immediately.

WARNING - THINGS GET CONSIDERABLY DARKER FROM THIS POINT FORWARD - POSSIBLE TRIGGER WARNING FOR THE END OF THE CHAPTER. CAUTION IS ADVISED.

 _In which our two heroes are feeling a little fragile, and poor Natasha is having a very rough day..._

Merrick x

* * *

 _Unconscious had been much better thought Tash blearily. She and Harry had been back in their room on the Isle of Avalon... perhaps if she closed her eyes she could get back there, if only she could get the people nearby to shut up..._

"I still think we should have just killed her"

"And that's why you're not paid to think and I am. Potter is the only one that can find what we're looking for, and to keep him on track we need leverage. That girl is leverage."

" _That girl_ as you call her is one of the most dangerous women in the world. Natasha Romanoff aka Natalia Romanova aka the Black Widow, one of the Avengers, Earth's Mightiest Heroes. Ring any bells with you? Don't let those big blue eyes deceive you. Give her an inch and she'll kill us all without a second thought."

"I admit it would have been better if we could have taken Granger, but she wasn't an option. Snatching her from the heart of the magical world would have shown our hand. At the moment there are suspicions of my existence. If I were to have taken Granger it would confirm everything that they fear is true…"

 _As long as she lay very still the pain was bearable, but even the slightest movement sent arrows of agony through her face and skull. Concussion definitely – maybe a couple of hairline fractures, but nothing that wouldn't heal. No, it was the concussion that was a bitch, waves of pain and nausea hitting her with every turn of her head._

 _She was lying on her side, arms tightly shackled behind her back to what felt like a ring at the base of a stone wall, looking down she realised her her feet were similarly secured to the floor by modern looking metal cuffs. Her current position meant that the edge of the cuffs dug painfully into her ankles._ _The floor was damp, and the chill was slowly but surely creeping through her clothing, making her shiver. Natasha ruthlessly disassociated herself from the pain, to focus on the voices. One male, older, New Jersey accent – Donnelly. She cursed under her breath, she had hoped that he had been one of the heavies she had killed in the garden. The other younger, undoubtedly female and definitely in charge, from her words, was possibly Araposa. Now what? Where was Harry? Was he already dead? Natasha was stunned at the pain that that thought caused her, something she didn't want to consider too much at that moment. No, they were talking about Harry finding the book and the staff, of using her as leverage._

 _Ergo he was still alive. And from the sound of it, free._

 _If Harry was alive and out there somewhere, there was still a chance. All she had to do was bide her time and await her moment. But in the meantime – she needed to get out of these damn shackles…_

 _ooo0ooo_

Harry put Natasha's mobile back onto his bedside table and stared at it thoughtfully, unaware that Hermione was awake and watching him.

"Harry? How are you feeling?"

Harry started at the sound of her voice, then winced at the pain produced by the sudden movement. "Do you remember George's stag night. The one where we nearly got arrested?"

Hermione pulled a face. "Vividly. You all decided that it would be a _really_ good idea to come and see me on the way home – at four in the morning… I had company… _and_ that arse Ron Weasley managed to ahh… be very ill on my doormat."

"Well you remember how awful we all felt when you turned up for a revenge visit at eight in the morning"

Hermione chuckled evilly. "Oh yes. It's one of my very _favourite_ memories."

"Well this is worse. Much, much worse than that."

Her smile slipped and she winced sympathetically. "Oh dear. It seems someone must have hit you very hard indeed. According to the muggle hospital you ended up in it was going to take ages for you to recover normally. Don't try and sit up, I'll call a healer, ask for a pain potion for you."

Their voices must have awoken Draco with a start if the neck cracking jerk with which he sat up was any indication. "Ah! Harry. Welcome back. Talk about causing chaos… We had to arrange a full scale extraction – save you from medieval muggle torture."

Harry squinted, wondering whether he was still dreaming. "Medieval…. what?"

Hermione laughed. "Draco was horrified to find that you might have to have surgery on your skull. The fundamentals of non-magical medicine are a bit basic for Draco's delicate stomach".

With a forbidding scowl at Hermione Draco headed for the door. "I have to floo call Kingsley, Merlin forbid I find him in his pyjamas. Don't ask him anything important until I come back Hermione"

He slipped out, closing the door a little loudly for Harry's sore head. Hermione's eye was caught by the sleek phone on the bedside table and frowned remembering Harry's conversation.

"Who were you talking to just now? That isn't your phone"

"No"

"So who were you talking to?"

He smiled weakly. "I don't think you'd believe me if I told you"

"Harry?"

He may have faced Dementors, Basilisks, Dark Lords, Death Eaters and Dragons… but when it came to Hermione Granger, Harry was a complete wimp. Wincing at her glare he caved immediately.

"Iron Man"

Her glare darkened. "Very funny Harry"

"No… seriously. Iron Man – Tony Stark. The inventor or mad scientist or whatever you want to call him"

Hermione sniffed disapprovingly. "How about arrogant egotistical megalomaniac if only half of what I read is true"

"Oh dear. You're not a fan?"

She shook her head disapprovingly. "No, he really isn't my type. I prefer someone with more… substance." Her eyes took on a slightly glazed look… "Now if you'd said Steve Rogers…."

"Captain America - really? You're a cheerleader huh... I never pegged you as the jock type"

Hermione huffed irritably. "Not Captain America Harry. Steve Rogers. The little guy who had nothing going for him, who was given it all but never lost his soul" She sighed. "Although the blue eyes and gorgeous blonde hair doesn't hurt …"

Harry grinned, in spite of the steam hammer pounding on the back of his skull. "Who is this fangirl and what has she done with Hermione Granger – I never knew you had a thing for blondes…"

It was just really bad luck that Draco should choose exactly that moment to walk back into the room… His eyebrows shot up, catching the tail end of Harry's words… Hermione blushed rosily, examining Harry's backpack as though she'd never seen anything so fascinating... Draco cleared his throat, equally interested in a crack in the ceiling. Harry watched the uncomfortable pair and smiled knowingly. Well, they would have to work it out between them. Right now he had to foil the bad guys and save his girl… _the_ girl, he corrected himself. Somehow he couldn't imagine Tash as a damsel in distress. Wherever she was, he hoped she was giving them hell. He looked ruefully down at his muggle hospital gown, with its open back – whatever he was going to be doing it needed to be soon, before all hell broke loose, and he was definitely going to need his clothes.

Seeing Kingsley speaking to the Healer in the lobby outside Harry saw his moment. "Can you brief the boss please Hermione. I just need a few minutes. To be honest I'd rather not speak to Kingsley with my behind flapping in the wind."

Still a little flustered, Hermione shot Harry a grateful look before hurrying to the door. With a smile that was verging on fond, Draco closed the door behind her, closing the curtain over the observation panel to give Harry privacy.

Turning back, Draco looked at Harry in disapproval. "Harry, I appreciate that you're _fixed"._ His fingers sketched quotes around the word... "but that doesn't mean you're _better_. You need a couple of days at least until you're fit to be back on _light_ duty"

But Harry was halfway out of his bed, reaching for jeans, wincing as the pressure in his head increased as he bent to pick them out of his bag. "I have to go Draco. Merlin knows I could use some backup, but with or without you, I have to go."

Harry lurched as he stood up too quickly, his vision spinning sickeningly. Draco darted forward, catching his shoulders, waiting for him to steady. "You see, you're as weak as a kitten. Look, just brief me, and I'll get the squad onto it – just the old hands if you'd rather."

Harry still had his eyes closed tightly - from the strain in his face, Draco suspected he was still in considerable pain. "I can't Draco... I can't... they have _her._ There was only four of them, we knew there was a chance of an ambush, and they still caught us on the hop. It should never have happened."

"Wizards?"

"No. Three muggles, one wizard. I choked Draco. For the first time since… I don't know. I choked. She was happily kicking the shit out of two guys twice her size and I just… seized. All I could do was watch her instead of pulling my finger out of my…. Now they have her and it's down to me."

The light dawned. "Ah... I see." Thin strong hands pushed Harry back onto the side of the bed, the mattress dipping as Draco sat down beside him.

"Who do they have Harry...? What is all this about."

Tired green eyes met his as Harry finally looked up. "I'll tell you everything I promise. But we can't just sit here talking all night. Kingsley and Hermione will be back in a minute and we'll be screwed. Look I could really use your help, but it's up to you. Are you with me on this or not?"

There was no question. Rising Draco handed him his bag. "Where are we going?"

"First stop, home, I need to use my computer." Harry looked up at Draco, weariness and pain etched clear across his face. "Would you mind giving me a lift. If you don't want to come any further with me I'll quite understand, but I don't think I'm quite ready to apparate myself yet – at least, not if I want to end up all in one piece"

Surprise flickered across Draco's face. In all the years he had known this man who was now his colleague, boss and friend, he, Draco, had never, ever known Harry to willingly acknowledge weakness so easily. Holding out his hand he grinned knowingly. "I am assuming that you would rather keep Kingsley, and further official complications out of this… you're asking me to go – what's that muggle expression – off the grid, with you?"

Harry smiled back, taking Draco's hand. "Something like that. Thank you Draco…"

Outside the room, Hermione broke off mid-sentence, looking at Kingsley in consternation, as a sharp crack heralded their departure.

ooo0ooo

The moment that they arrived in Harry's library, every light in the house started flashing.

Assuming an attack, Draco was instantly on the alert, but Harry simply smiled ruefully, and silenced his wards with a wave of his wand and a muttered charm.

"What the fuck was that about"

Draco rarely used muggle curses, and never failed to make Harry smile when he did. There was something about such crude language being delivered in Draco's languid drawl that never failed to amuse him – no matter how serious the situation. First things first, Harry headed for the kitchen in search of coffee, Draco following, wand still in hand.

"Relax Draco. The wards picked up the tracking spell that they put on me while I was unconscious. It's fine."

"You _knew_ about the spell, and did nothing to remove it?"

Harry flicked the button on the kettle, rummaging for tea in the back of his cupboard. "Of course not. They have to be able to keep track of me. Eventually they will want to exchange the book and the staff for Natasha. How will they be able to do that if they can't find me." He gave a small triumphant cry as he finally located a box of Earl Grey tea at the back of the cupboard, sniffing tentatively. "Earl Grey Draco?"

Draco eyed the box, did a swift mental calculation as to its likely age and shook his head. "Under the circumstances, I think coffee may be in order… even if it is instant…." As the kettle hissed in the corner, he perched on one of Harry's kitchen chairs.

"So come on then Harry… spill. What the hell is going on? Who is this woman, and what is all this about?"

As Harry made their coffee he told him about the message from Kinsley, about SHIELD, HYDRA and Caron's message. By the time the coffee was on the table Draco was hooked. "So this woman you're working with is…?"

"Natasha"

"So do I know this Natasha?"

Harry laughed harshly and shook his head, wincing as he did so. "No Draco, you don't know her. She's an American muggle agent that I've been working with"

"You've been working with a _muggle!_ This is Kingsley's mission?" He eyed the dejected slump of Harry's shoulders narrowly. "Harry... is there something I ought to know?"

Harry shrugged, with a wry chuckle. "Do you have a muggle phone Draco?"

"You know I do"

"Google her. Natasha Romanoff – two F's"

Draco looked down at the images from the Battle of New York, at the beautiful redhead in the skintight black catsuit, armed to the teeth and kicking seven shades out of some seriously unpleasant looking aliens... " _That_ is Natasha? You lucky bastard Potter, you always did have a weakness where redheads are concerned. So you and she are..."

"Leave it Draco... just... I have to get her back. She's tough as they come and twice as lethal as anyone I've ever met before, but the one that took her _apparated_ her. This is not her world Draco, she doesn't know it, doesn't understand it. It would be like dropping you into muggle New York when you were seventeen. She's clever and resourceful and she's as tough as all hell, but she's a fish out of water."

"And you… care for her…?"

Harry's face closed. "That's not the issue Draco"

Draco nodded. "No it isn't. But I need to know what I'm dealing with. Is this a case to you, or is this you running off, saving the world and rescuing the damsel in distress."

Even in his weakened state, Harry had to laugh. "I tell you what Malfoy… when we find her I'll tell her what you just said – then _you'll_ be the damsel in distress, and if you're really lucky I may even come and save you from her…" He rose stiffly from the chair, giving himself a moment to steady. "Come on. I need some muggle technology."

ooo0ooo

A few minutes later, Harry took a swig of coffee, sweeter than he would normally drink it, but gods knew he needed the energy; and waited for his computer to boot up, while Draco studied the papers that Annabelle Lee had given them. When he had finished, he looked up, grey eyes wide.

"So the staff and the book that you mentioned really…?"

"…. belonged to Merlin, yes. We found the reference in Branwen's library. Caron – or Alun as he was then, was Merlin's servant and companion since he was a boy."

Draco's face was a study in shock and amazement. " _Branwen's library! We…_ Are you telling me that you took a _muggle_ to The Isle? With permission?"

Harry looked up from his laptop with a huff of irritation. "No Draco. Tasha and I broke into the Isle and picked the lock on Branwen's front door. Of course with permission."

"At what price?"

Harry had been logging into his computer as they talked, but now he stopped. "What do you mean?"

"At what price?"

Harry's face remained blank. Draco rolled his eyes. "Oh come on Harry, don't be naive. The Isle of Avalon is the most important treasury of magical knowledge and history in all of Britain, hell, probably the world. You think that they will allow a _muggle_ to visit, and no doubt rummage through the Isle's treasures without any guarantees of secrecy. Who obtained your consent for you anyway?"

"Kingsley. Now you come to mention it, he did say something about owing the Statute Office a favour…"

Draco snorted into his coffee…. "If that's all it is, I'm a house elf…" He crouched beside Harry's chair, his face suddenly serious. "Promise me something Harry. Please. … If… when, we get Natasha back, don't let her out of your sight…."

Something cold and unpleasant twisted in the bottom of Harry's stomach. "Draco – what are you suggesting?"

"Honestly… I don't know. I just can't see them letting her just jet back to New York… knowing what she knows. Just don't let her out of your sight. OK."

Harry nodded, cursing his stupidity. How had he missed that, missed the shifty look in Kingsley's eyes that morning in his kitchen.

What had Kingsley agreed that was so serious that he wouldn't tell him, Harry, in spite of all they'd been through?

Shaking himself, Harry dragged his attention back to the maps on his computer. The first problem was to find Tash and stop HYDRA. He would deal with Kingsley, and whatever else awaited them then, and not before. Seeing the change in his focus, Draco studied the map on the screen.

"So where are we going?"

"I'm kicking myself that I didn't realise this sooner. Caron's text refers to a sacred isle, watched over by the guardian spirits of the dead. Merlin – the man, as opposed to the Gandalf-like figure we now think of, was the last of the mages raised in the old Druidic faith. Before he was even born, the Romans had massacred most of the Druids, and destroyed the sacred oak groves on what was one of their most sacred places. The place known to the Welsh as Ynys Mon, the island of Anglesey.

Eyes never leaving the screen, Draco nodded slowly. "That makes sense. I've never been to Anglesey, but it's a fair size. Any chance we could narrow it down a little?"

Harry nodded, flicking through a number of images of the Anglesey coastline. "I have been once, it's lovely, and well worth the trip. But it was while I was on the The Isle that I got a clue. I had a dream in which I spoke to a man, I never saw his face, but I believe that it may have been Caron himself – unless Merlin had come through for a chat of course. He spoke to me about making a choice. Then my Mum came through, and she showed me an image, of a towering cliff, a tall narrow fissure – a cave, and a platform cut by the tide. I thought then that it looked vaguely familiar." He gestured toward one of the pictures on his screen. This is what I saw. It's on Holyhead, not far from the South Stack lighthouse I think. The problem is I don't know for sure. There could be half a dozen different features like this"

Draco frowned, pondering practicalities. "I don't think I can apparate us there to be honest Harry. I have no idea as to the lie of the land, and could just as easily drop us into the Irish Sea."

Harry shook his head. "I agree, and beside, we need to check around the whole of Holyhead – that's the furthest tip of the island. What we could really do with is a helicopter."

"Excellent idea Harry. And when you manage to pull one out of that magical rucksack of yours, don't forget to conjure up a pilot. Unless you've been hiding a muggle pilot's licence on your person of course…"

Harry fished Natasha's Starkphone out of his bag with a flourish. "Leave that with me Draco. Make yourself comfortable for a minute. I just need to make a call."

Wandering back into the kitchen, he called the number that Stark had used earlier. But the familiar voice that answered was not the mad inventor.

" _Stark residence. How may I direct your call?"_

"Hello Jarvis. This is Harry Potter again. May I speak to Mr Stark please?"

There was a pause, presumably while Stark's indefatigable AI verified that he was who he said he was, then the line clicked faintly.

"Harry Potter. I didn't expect to hear from you this quickly. What can I do for you?"

"You remember earlier, when you agreed to let me handle this, on the understanding that if I needed anything I'd call"

There was a dry chuckle. "Harry, I may have had a couple, but my memory is just fine. I remember. How can I help?"

"I need a helicopter and pilot"

There was a moment's silence. "A helicopter. I don't suppose a Starkjet will do? I happen to keep one on standby at City Airport."

"Alluring though the idea of luxuriating on one of your private jets is, I'm afraid I need something a little more practical. I need to be able to inspect Welsh cliff faces."

"Ah yes. Helicopter it is then. Leave it with Jarvis and me. We'll make arrangements and text you details." The voice on the end of the line softened perceptibly. "And Harry…"

"Yes"

"While we sort this out, for the love of God get some sleep. I'm fairly certain that it's way past your bedtime and you sound like hell. You're no good to Tash half dead. Jarvis tracked your phone to some kind of top secret unlisted medical facility in London earlier, so I'm fairly certain that Tash isn't the only one to have a rough day."

The customary denial was on the tip of Harry's tongue, when common sense kicked in. "You're right. I suppose I could sleep while I wait to hear from you"

"Pepper'll never believe it - me being the sensible one for a change. Give 'em hell Harry. And bring our girl back."

"I will. Goodbye… and thank you"

Hanging up, Harry returned to the library, looking pleased, checking his watch. "It's 1.30am now. Dawn is in approximately five hours. Even with magic we'd be crazy to try to find what we're looking for in the dark. Transport is being arranged, details pending. In the meantime there's time to catch a few hours' sleep" He nodded his head towards the stairs. "You can use the guestroom on the second floor. First door on the right. Is that OK?"

"Sure." Draco rose to his feet. "Not my usual room?"

There was no answer. Harry's face was closed and tight with a strain that had nothing to do with broken bones and concussion.

"Harry? Are you alright?"

"That's Tash's room. Some of her stuff is still in there."

Draco and Harry were both affectionate and open with the women in their lives, but not with each other. If they had that kind of relationship, Draco thought, there had never been a moment where Harry was more in need of a hug than this. Instead, he put a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder. "We'll sort this out Harry. Get her back"

Harry's face softened just a little, but his expression was no brighter. "What then Draco. I'll carry on here as though nothing's happened; while she's goes back to her life on the other side of the Atlantic. Chasing the scum of the universe around until one of us ends up dying alone on the wrong side of a bullet - or a curse." He laughed cynically. "You and I both know how much the world loves a dead hero… they're so much easier to live with."

Draco shook his head. "This is not good my friend. _I'm_ the hard-nosed cynic in this relationship, not you. You're all sunshine and rainbows, and seeing the good in everyone remember. Come on. I can't promise it'll all be all right in the morning, but whatever happens will be a bit easier to deal with on a few hours of sleep."

Harry sighed, knowing Draco was right. "Thanks Draco. I'll give you a shout before we need to leave."

With Draco hard on his heels, Harry dragged himself wearily upstairs to his room. Not even bothering to put the light on, he took off his boots and climbed onto his bed still fully clothed, trying very hard not to think about the faint traces of Tash's perfume that still clung to his pillows. Trying to get comfortable he rolled over onto the other pillow, muttering under his breath when he felt paper under his cheek. Curious, he cast a quick _lumos,_ to investigate.

The paper was standard muggle printer paper, not the sort of thing a wizard would normally use, but the note was undoubtedly written by quill. Harry frowned for a moment, trying to work out whether or not there might be something vaguely familiar about the handwriting.

 _Harry Potter, we have the muggle. You have twenty four hours to find that which we seek and win her life and her freedom. Take Malfoy with you if you must, but no-one else._

 _We are watching you._

 _A_

There was no other signature – there was no need. Harry traced the letter with his finger.

"Araposa. Finally we meet"

Then, resolutely clearing his head, he set a tempus charm to wake him and closed his eyes.

ooo0ooo

Half propped against the wall now, Natasha had fallen into a light doze. She was cold and hungry, but she'd had worse in the past. Her thirst was the hardest thing to ignore... right now she would happily give six months of her life for a bottle of water. She was distracted from her discomfort by the sound of footsteps outside the door putting every sense on the alert. Through half closed eyes she watched the door open carefully, her heart sinking as Donnelly slide inside. Always large, he towered threateningly over her prone position.

"Hello pretty... fancy some company..."

Seated in her study above, poring over a map of North Wales, the sound of fist on flesh and bone brought Araposa's head up sharply. She listened for a moment, a cool smile on her face. Beyond the sound of Donnelly relieving some of his frustrations, there was no sound from the cellar below.

Returning to her maps, she shrugged. Donnelly was well aware of the importance of keeping their prisoner alive... uncomfortable but alive.

The woman was tough though, she had to admit...

When Donnelly re-emerged nearly an hour later, Natasha still hadn't made a sound...


	12. Chapter 12

_First of all, let me apologise for going off-grid for so long. I was right, the last few chapters have been... let's say challenging to be polite. This is absolutely the last time I try to post a story before I at least have a reasonable first draft down. Respect to those writers that can make it up as they go along... the stress nearly killed me. Inevitably I fell back on my usual stress response - hiding the laptop behind the sofa and watching endless reruns of my favourite TV shows instead._

 _But it's finished... finally, and here they are, the final four chapters, all yours._

 _For the last time... I do not own any of JKR or Marvel's characters and make no money from this story._

 _Enjoy_

 _Merrick x_

* * *

Pat Donnelly added milk and two sugars to his tea before sticking his head into the small office just off the hall.

"I made tea. Sure you don't want a cup? Or coffee…. if you could use some caffeine I can make coffee" The slight black clad figure neither looked up, or answered. "It's the real thing. They have one of those fancy French press things…." Still no answer. Shrugging Donnelly turned back to the two mugs on the side.

"Cafetiere"

"What?"

"This is England Donnelly. They call them cafetieres over here… and please piss off because I _really_ need to concentrate and it's impossible with you crashing around. Following tracking spells isn't like tracking GPS you know. It isn't just a matter of following a dot on a screen."

Donnelly held his hands up. "Hey. No worries. I'm outta here". Picking up the two mugs from the worktop, he took them out onto the terrace. Bumping the door closed with his foot, he cursed as he spilled hot tea over his hand. "Fuckin' uptight English bitch"

"You'd better not be talking about me Donnelly , or I'll blow your bollocks off." Imogen Mason sat on a wooden bench, feet propped on a low table cigarette in hand. Pushing her feet to one side Donnelly placed the second mug in front of her, next to her newly cleaned .45.

"Relax Mason. I gotta lotta things I could call you, but uptight isn't one of 'em. I'm talkin' about Morgan le Fay in there."

Mason took a sip of her tea and nodded appreciatively. "I'm impressed Donnelly, you finally learned to make a decent cup of tea… and actually I'm even more impressed that you know your Arthurian legends."

Donnelly lowered himself gingerly onto one of the cheap wooden chairs which creaked ominously beneath his weight. "Old girlfriend of mine had a thing for this freak seventies movie about him… lots of smoke and weird shit. Woman who played Morgan le Fay was hot stuff though… a real goer. Not like _her_ in there."

"The film was called Excalibur and the actress you're talking about is Dame Helen Mirren you philistine." Mason watched a pair of car headlights winding up the side of the valley in which they sat, and took another pull on her cigarette. "Do you think she's really a witch? I've seen a lot of strange technology and stuff since I was recruited - not to mention the Inhumans... but _real_ magic?"

Donnelly shrugged. "What else could it be… you said she laid out Romanova from eight feet away then disappeared with her into thin air. Shame she couldn't've brought us here the same way. These fuckin' mountain roads are a bitch."

Mason pulled a face. "Aww, poor baby. I thought you were going to spend the whole trip with your head over that bag..." Her partner glared at her but refused to rise to her taunts.

They sat, sipping tea, content for now to simply wait the night out. Eventually Donnelly let out a frustrated sigh, putting his mug down on the table harder than he truly needed to. "Spendin' a lotta time staring into that bowl of water isn't she. Thought witches were supposed to use crystal balls."

His partner rolled her eyes. "That's fortune tellers you fool." They sat listening to the silence stretch out around them, just a few night animals, and the soft hiss of Mason's cigarette discernible. "My parents had a holiday home not far from here, near Abersoch. I used to come here with my mother when I was home for the holidays. Sometimes we'd drive up into the mountains and she'd make up stories about magic, dragons and knights and witches. Not when _he_ was around though. He didn't believe in fairy tales."

"Your Dad"

She nodded. "Bastard. He died in a car crash when I was fifteen. They said he must've fallen asleep at the wheel because he'd taken some pills." Her eyes slid sideways. "I put them in his coffee. I was such a good little daughter."

"Didn't they do a blood test like they do on the TV?"

She smiled lazily, and lit another cigarette. "I persuaded the DI that was looking into it that he'd been taking them for stress." The look on her face left Donnelly in no doubt of the form that 'persuasion' had taken. "He liked me to dress up like the naughty little schoolgirl I was… that was alright, although the ankle socks were a bit creepy. In the end I got bored, borrowed a video camera then threatened to send the film to his superiors if he didn't fuck off."

"He left you alone after that?"

She shrugged carelessly. "After a fashion. They found him the following day. He blew his brains out. So I suppose he was the second man I killed. And speaking of killers, how are you getting on with our new houseguest?"

Donnelly scowled. "She should'a let me put a bullet through that bitch's head soon as I got the chance. You see a mad dog n' you shoot it or you leave it alone. You don't tie it up in the cellar and wait for it to work out how to get loose'n rip your throat out."

"Ah come on Donnelly. You mean you wouldn't if you had the chance? I saw you watching her in the street with that partner of hers. From the bulge in your trousers I'd say you enjoyed the show. You certainly looked pretty pissed when he scooped her up and carried her off. Come to think of it, he was pretty hot stuff himself, with some serious skills given the way she was reacting… I wouldn't say no"

"You'd better say no Mason, or it'll be the last thing you ever say…" Neither Donnelly nor Mason had heard the door open, but Araposa was standing in the shadows. "Get your arses into gear you two. They're on the move. And make sure our 'guest' is well secured before you move her."

ooo0ooo

Stark's helicopter was –as Harry had expected – state of the art, and its pilot had it ready and waiting for them on the tarmac when they arrived.

"Welcome aboard Mr Smith, Mr Black, please make yourselves comfortable gentlemen. We have clearance to take off in ten minutes. Weather reports indicate some issues over Snowdonia, so we'll head up to Liverpool and along the coast. Flight should take round about two hours, then Mr Stark informs me that we need to carry out some survey work on the South Stack cliffs."

Seeing Draco eyeing the helicopter dubiously, Harry smiled. "That's sounds fine, thank you. You'll have to excuse my friend, he's a nervous flyer."

"That's no problem Sir, you should find this a very stress free experience. Just buckle up and enjoy the ride. Water, snacks and soft drinks are available in the locker in front of you. If you need to speak to either myself or my co-pilot, please feel free to use the headsets provided.

Once they were in the air Draco relaxed visibly. "Well I have to say that, as muggle transportation goes, this is very… tolerable. How did you manage this anyway Harry?"

"Tony Stark _is_ Iron Man remember" Harry smiled smugly. "And Iron Man is another of 'Earth's Mightiest Heroes' and therefore a friend of Tash's. He was the one I spoke to on her phone at the hospital last night."

Draco was silent for a moment. Then he smiled knowingly. "You devious little shit. And here was I thinking we were off on one of your madcap death or glory solo missions. Where are we meeting the rest of the Avengers?"

"Ah." Harry looked a little uncomfortable. "Sorry Draco, just you and me. They did offer but… I said we'd handle it. The helicopter is as far as their help goes I'm afraid"

"What! You had Earths Mightiest Heroes on speed-dial and you said no thanks?" Draco rubbed his temples, fighting the beginnings of a headache. "Why?"

"Relax Draco, It's not as crazy as it sounds. Natasha is former KGB, raised on secrets and as secure as Gringott's itself. Let's just say that other members of the Avengers may not be as reliable when it comes to leaving weapons like Merlin's staff and journal in the care of a load of English Wizards. Good guy though he seems to be Stark is a notorious showman and far too fond of a drink for my liking, and from what I've heard of Captain America, there's no guarantees that he won't decide that they should end up in SHIELD's vaults somewhere, he's a soldier through and through, and prefers to play by the rule book."

Draco was silent for a moment, then nodded reluctantly. "Reluctantly, I have to agree with you. Tempting though the idea of dragging in supercharged back up is - the fewer people know about this the better. God forbid if the average wizard in the street discovered that we'd been working with the muggles. The Statute Office would have our heads." Draco leaned forward and opened the locker. "Oh well. What would you like to drink…?"

ooo0ooo

Harry dozed off just as the sky to their right was paling into pre-dawn and the lights of London were receding into the distance…

As muggle transportation went, Draco thought, settling back in his seat, one of Stark's helicopters wasn't a bad option. To be sure it was still noisy, but it was less risky than apparition, and a damn sight warmer than a broomstick. Thinking of all those days spent crushing his balls as well as freezing them off on the Quidditch Pitch, all in the desperate hope of finally proving himself to that bastard father of his - proving himself better than the man beside him - made Draco chuckle. Hearing him, Harry lazily opened one eye.

"What?"

"I was just thinking about all the years I spent trying to outdo you at school. I was a fool. _I_ picked the wrong sort… not you."

Harry shrugged. "Ancient history Draco. The irony is that you've proved a better friend to me than Ron ever did… so maybe you _were_ right that first day in the hall."

"The question is, would you have kept me on the straight and narrow or would I have dragged you into the mire with me?" Draco couldn't repress a shudder at the thought of how _that_ could have worked out, the Dark Lord and Harry Potter working together.

Harry smiled and shook his head. "You were never really Voldemort's man Draco, I think at heart I probably knew that from the start – don't get me wrong, you were a complete shit, but you were never going to be a Death Eater. I should have played it differently, that day in sixth year, not tried to kill you. Any idiot should've seen how desperately needed a way out, even a sixteen year old idiot."

"How would you have done that? The state I was in at that point I would probably have killed _you_ …if you'd given me the chance that is."

Harry smiled, warm and wicked… the first since they had found him in the muggle hospital. "Oh that's easy Draco. I should've just sent Hermione into that bathroom instead…"

Draco said nothing, pretending to be absorbed in the view from the window. But he could feel the hot colour scorch his face, and hear Harry's chuckle.

" _Bastard…"_

ooo0ooo

Both Harry and Draco were fast asleep when the pilot called through to announce they were approaching the Anglesey Coast. Rubbing stiff neck, Draco looked through the side window, across the Menai Straights to the low lying headland opposite, and the lights of Beaumaris.

"I hate to worry you, but I don't see much in the way of cliffs there Harry. Are you sure we're in the right place?"

Still blinking blearily, Harry fumbled with his headset. "Can you take us around the northern coast of the island first please. We need to inspect any cliff faces we encounter. I believe that the place we need is on the southern cliffs below the South Stack Lighthouse, but I have to be sure."

"No problem Mr Smith…"

ooo0ooo

It had taken them at least forty minutes to work their way around the island when the Holyhead port came into view and the pilot's voice cut into the cabin.

"Excuse me gentlemen. We have approximately thirty minutes flying time before we need to refuel at Anglesey Airport. We should be able to cover the Holyhead Coast, but that will be as far as we go."

"Thank you, hopefully that will be fine…"

Harry returned to the window looking over the cliffs, and resumed his vigil. There were a number of cliffs, crevices and platforms, but no combination that looked right to him thus far. Draco, seeing the island for the first time had to admit that the clifftop scenery, sharply delineated in the early morning light was truly spectacular. As they rounded another headland, with only a few minutes of flying time left Harry gave a yell of triumph loud enough to make Draco's ears ring.

"That's it… that's the place. I knew it. That's it."

Taking the headset, Draco contacted the pilot. "Captain. I think we have it. Can you set us down please?"

ooo0ooo

The sun was well up, but a certain post-dawn chill lingered, when the helicopter set them down in a tourist car park close to the Lighthouse. Despite the heavy jacket borrowed from Harry, Draco shivered in the brisk wind that blew off the sea. "Why do we never end up solving cases in Brighton in the middle of August?" He paused to take in the towering cliffs for a moment. "Not that this isn't spectacular… stunning even. Just cold. And if we're going down there… cold and wet."

Harry smiled. "Draco, are you a wizard or not. A quick _impervious_ charm to their clothes meant that they did at least have a fighting chance of staying dry before Harry hefted a small pack containing some basic emergency supplies and they headed for the cliffs. They followed the path as far as they could, until it turned sharp left towards an area of lower lying rock pools and shingle. Peering cautiously over the edge Harry looked at Draco.

"Ready?"

"Ready"

With a quick check around for any passing muggles the two wizards vanished from the clifftop.

ooo0ooo

Their landing on the rocky ledge below was tricky to say the least. Sea polished rocks that are soaking wet and covered in seaweed don't make for secure footing, and for a hideous moment Harry was convinced that he and Draco would perish at the final hurdle, either swept out to sea and drowned, or smashed to smithereens against the cliffs. Finally finding their feet, they scrambled over the rocks towards the towering rift in the cliff-face that had featured so vividly in Harry's dream, Draco cursing roundly as he slipped into a rock pool, filling his good dragon hide boots with icy sea-water.

"Why can't we go searching for magical treasure in a nice warm restaurant, or manor? Why is it always cold, usually wet and..." he curled up his nose fastidiously as they entered the mouth of the cave, and the smell of seabirds and rotting seaweed greeted them, "...frequently smelly"

Harry lit his wand, looking around him cautiously. "Stop being such a ponce Draco, it still doesn't smell as bad as that cellar full of dragons in Macclesfield." His second in command refused to dignify that with a response, just glaring at him in his wand light.

"So what are we looking for?"

Harry shook his head. "Not a clue. I've been following wherever this leads me since I got that bloody message from Kingsley. Whatever doesn't fit I suppose."

"It would have to have been bloody well-protected to stay hidden all these years."

Harry shook his head. "Without ropes and tackle there's no non-magical way down here, did you see the rocks below sea level. If you tried to land a boat here you'd be smashed to smithereens. And really... why would you? The only use for caves is for smuggling, and if you can't get a boat in, and can't get the goods out the back there's no point. There's no note of it, but I'm beginning to think that our Brother Caron must have been magical too. I mean how else would you get down here - set up whatever protections are in place. If he was, he hid it well living in a monastery. I'm pretty sure they took a dim view of stuff like that in those days."

Draco circled the cave carefully, muttering charms as he went, while Harry prowled in the other direction, scanning the walls visually for any irregularities that might indicate some kind of hidden clue. They had been searching for about half an hour when Draco gave a triumphant shout.

A narrow fissure in the rock in front of him was glowing a strange and lurid shade of green under Draco's wand, Harry had seen most things over the years, but there was something about the way the light swirled and writhed that was distinctly unnerving. It looked almost... _alive._

"What _is_ it?"

Draco – who had spent some time working with Hermione in the Department of Mysteries hunched over the glowing rocks, muttering under his breath, for several minutes, before looking up, grey eyes confused.

"So what is it professor?"

Draco was peering back into the light, an abstracted frown on his face. "I hate to have to admit this... but I haven't got a clue. I don't _think_ it's a curse. It isn't a shield, that's certain... and I _don't_ think it's a glamour, but I can't be certain."

"...what about a portal?"

Draco shook his head slowly. "I don't know... it doesn't behave like any kind of portal I've ever seen - or look like one now I come to think about it. But that would make the most sense. And if it is a portal, where the hell does it go... and .."

"And...?"

"And if you go through it, what are your chances of getting back in one piece?"

Seeing Harry's expression he stepped sharply backwards. "Oh no... absolutely not. I'm the brains of this partnership remember – Stupidly reckless courage is your department. I'm just here to pick up the pieces. Besides, this is your damsel in distress we're rescuing, not mine." Meeting Harry's eyes he shrugged ruefully. "As far as I'm aware, my lady fair is still safely at home in London where she belo..." The body bind came out of nowhere sending him crashing to the floor. Harry whirled, the portal forgotten, wand in hand.

"Well isn't this touching... Potter and Malfoy. I must admit I didn't see _that_ coming when all this started. Don't you make a sweet couple." Disillusionment fell and a tall figure stepped out of the shadows at the entrance to the cave, wand in hand. Seeing Harry's wand twitch, a stunner shot over his shoulder, his hair ruffling with its passing. "Now that was just a little warning shot Harry. Keep your hands where I can see them, try not to do anything stupid, and maybe there's a very small chance that you might make it out of here alive. Just bear in mind though, if you so much as twitch in the wrong direction I'm quite happy to start cursing off body parts"

Harry and Draco's eyes met in stunned shock. It had been some years, even for Harry, but the voice was all too familiar.

"It can't be..."

The figure stepped forward, into the band of bright light stretching from the cave entrance, across the rocky floor pushing her hood back to reveal her face for the first time.

"Ginny Weasley...?"


	13. Chapter 13

"Ginny Weasley...?"

The laugh was hard and scornful. "Oh _well done_ Harry. I'm flattered. And after all these years. Imagine the great and powerful Harry Potter remembering insignificant little Ginny Weasley."

She'd changed, Harry thought. Always slender and athletic, she was older, thinner, harder. Her hair was the same stunning shade of Weasley-red, but shorter, expensively styled. Everything about her from her knee boots to her hair reeked of money. But who's money? Did she know who she was working for or was she someone else's puppet? Either way, she was strung out as tightly as a bow-string. Harry watched her wand warily. She glanced back toward the cave entrance, her vigilance not wavering for a moment.

"Bring her in"

Harry looked over her shoulder and closed his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply, jaw clenched, trying to dispel the red mist of rage that the sight of Natasha being dragged in, battered and bruised, clothes torn and hands shackled tightly in front of her had provoked.

Seeing his expression, Ginny smirked. "Really Harry, nothing changes does it. I see you still have a thing for redheads..."

Harry ignored her… "Tash. Are you alright?"

Pinned between Donnelly and Mason, elbows held so tight her feet barely touched the floor, she looked up at him, squinting through swollen eyes, in the dim light.

"Peachy"

"You're not going to get away with this Ginny. You do know that don't you?"

Another curse shot past his ear, and he winced - it had passed so close that the heat had scorched his cheek. No stunner this time, and she had meant him to realise this - to know that she meant business. Her voice when she spoke again was almost sickeningly sweet. "Well Harry, this little reunion has been very pleasant, but enough with the small talk. If you want your little girlfriend back in anything other than very small pieces I believe you have something to retrieve for me."

Harry cast a nervous glance back over his shoulder at the pulsing green light... he'd got this far on his mission, and couldn't stop now, but jumping into mysterious magical green lights was not an attractive prospect. "Ginny..."

"Now Harry - _Impedimenta!"_

 _"Finite!"_ As Ginny's spell pushed Harry back towards the fissure he felt it. Like apparition, the sudden irresistible tug at his diaphragm as he plummeted backwards the cave wall dissolving into mist, tumbling helplessly into nothing. The cave spun around him in a swirl of green and grey magic. He had just enough time to catch Natasha's wide-eyed, horrified gaze, before he was dragged backwards, falling into space. Echoing in his ears as he fell were the sounds of ricocheting spells – it appeared that his _finite_ had worked - Draco had managed to get free of Ginny's hex.

 _Well done mate…_ thought Harry blearily before everything went black.

ooo0ooo

"Blimey Harry, that was some fall…. you alright?"

Harry tried to open his eyes, but the fall had knocked the breath out of him, and nothing seemed to be working properly. Giving up for a moment, he retreated back into the darkness, trying to assess his situation.

He was lying on his back, the ache in every bone testifying to the bruising force with which he had landed. But _where_ had he landed? Not in the… he tried to recall the circumstances of his fall, but those memories seemed curiously muted, and difficult to reach. He was lying on warm grass, he could feel it under his cheek and his fingertips, but not under his palms.

Was he wearing gloves?

"Harry can you hear me mate?"

Male… he thought. Young too, and achingly familiar.

It sounded like…. Ron? No – not Ron. Squinting, Harry took a deep breath and tried again. This time he was rewarded by bright sunshine, strong enough to make him wince. The sky above him was the bright blue of a flawless summer day. He was warm – taking a deep breath he could smell fruit, an un-nameable sweetness. Warm grass and leather.

Leather?

Hand to his head, Harry tried desperately to focus on the cluster of faces looking down on him.

"What the fuck happened…?"

"Language young man! You'll be alright in a minute, just take your time. That was quite a fall you took" That voice was unmistakeable. He had heard it in dreams and nightmares, and once in the dark forest at the end of the world…

"Mum?"

Harry sat carefully up, aware of a number of hands and arms supporting him. Finally bringing his sight into focus, he looked around. And every rational thought fled…

"Oh my God…"

His parents were there. This wasn't a dream or hallucination brought on by the fall. They were really there, crouched in front of him. The first shock was how young they looked. Of course, they had only been in their twenties when…. but that thought slid away from him like mist in the sun, as he looked around in disbelief.

Sirius, Remus Lupin, George… no Fred, Cedric Diggory, like his Dad they were all clustered anxiously around him, and like him they were all dressed for Quidditch. Looking down Harry recognised with a pang of familiarity the leather gear he had worn after he had left school, on the odd occasion he had had time for a game.

His Mum's hands were carefully checking him for injuries. "Take it easy sweetheart. Come on. Come and sit on the side with me for a while, until you feel better" Numerous hands pulled him to his feet, enabling him to look around for the first time.

Harry blinked. Where _was he?_ Lightly wooded grassland stretched as far as the eye could see, reaching snow tipped mountains at the farthest horizon. It looked like….

What _did_ it look like?

Shaking his head Harry obediently followed his Mother back to the shade of the trees, allowing her to coax him down on the grass beside her, his head on her lap, her fingers carding gently through his hair.

"How do you feel now darling? Do you remember what happened?"

Mutely he shook his head, watching his father, Cedric, Sirius and Fred throwing a Quaffle back and forth through the leaves above him.

Lupin's voice answered, and Harry realised that he must have followed them to the shade. He looked so young, Harry thought. Not as he remembered him, greying, scarred and weary. Harry was very tired, warm and relaxed, and his Mum's fingers in his hair were very soothing. As he dozed, he listened to Lupin talking about how he, Harry had been playing Seeker, reaching for the snitch, he had over extended and fallen.

 _Rookie mistake_ thought Harry sleepily. Hardly surprising as he was so out of practice.

 _Why was he out of practice?_

Harry frowned, watching the pattern of light and shadows playing over his Mum's hair, striking gold from the red. It reminded him of something. The scent of herbs and the sound of running water…

 _It was just a dream. What did dreams matter when he was Home._

Harry slept.

ooo0ooo

When Harry awoke his head was pillowed on what felt like a folded cloak. He frowned, still half asleep. Surely his Mum had been there. Had he been dreaming?

"Welcome back Harry. You've been asleep for ages, it's nearly supper time. His father's voice… Harry opened his eyes and smiled. "Hi Dad" He sat up, looking around. Aside from a few figures in the distance, the countryside around him was deserted. Sirius was seated beside his Father, while Remus was propped casually against the same trunk. Harry smiled. "Sirius, Remus… where's Mum?"

Remus held out a hand to haul him to his feet. "She's gone ahead, asked us to watch you till you woke up. Come on or we'll be late for supper."

It never dawned on Harry to question him. Chatting and laughing the four young men strode across the grass, following the tantalising scent of cooking food, and a flicker of firelight through the trees.

 _This was how it was always meant to be…_ thought Harry as he joined the throng of familiar faces seated at the long tables. They were seated in the open air, in a large clearing surrounded by towering trees. Somewhere he could hear music, pipes – or some kind of flute maybe, and drums. Perhaps later there would be singing he thought happily, reaching for bread. Further down the table he could see Ted Tonks, teasing his daughter and son in law, with Dobby beyond them.

"Wine Harry?"

Harry turned back to find Sirius still beside him, jug in hand.

"Yes please"

From the other side of the great fire, he could smell the tantalising smell of cooking meat… it stirred a memory in his mind. Another table, another red haired woman.

" _No, normal is good. I don't get much practice with normal"_

The firelight reflected in the red wine in front of him. Harry closed his eyes, food forgotten, chasing the memory that seemed too important to lose through the fog that seemed to obscure it.

 _Tash?_

Eyes wide he looked up to find his mother's eyes watching him warily.

"Mum… What's going on?"

"Nothing sweetheart. Why should anything be going on?"

"Mum?"

With a reluctant sigh, she rose from the table. "Walk with me Harry"

Taking his hand, she led him to the edge of the glade, where they could speak in private. She had changed her dress, Harry thought inconsequentially. Earlier she had been wearing muggle jeans and a shirt. Now she was wearing a gown similar to the one that Tash had worn on….

The fog cleared just a little. "Natasha. How could I…? Mum. What is this place?"

She smiled sadly. "It goes by many names sweetheart. Tir Na Nog, the Otherworld, the Land of Eternal Youth, Valhalla."

"Heaven?"

"One place, many names darling."

"So am I dead?"

She was silent for what seemed like a very long time, watching his father joking with his friends as they ate in the firelight. Then she reluctantly shook her head.

"No Harry. No sweetheart, you're not dead. This is not your place yet – unless you want it to be."

Harry rubbed his forehead, confused… "So why am I here… and what do you mean – if I want it to be?"

"You can stay if you want sweetheart. We love you… we _want_ you to stay – if it's what you want. No one could question your right to be here darling. You can stay here with us… forever."

He was tempted, so very tempted. His memories of his life before this place were fuzzy and indistinct – becoming more distant with every moment that passed. He could stay here, with his Mum and Dad, Sirius, Remus, Tonks, Fred. There would be no more fighting, no more bad guys… no more _boy who lived._

He could stay here, in peace, and just be Harry for the first time in his life.

But there was… a girl… a woman and a man with pale hair. They were in danger, they needed him.

Tash … and Draco.

He shook his head. "There's a girl Mum? And bad guys… and all that shit… sorry rubbish"

She touched his cheek, eyes warm and loving. It made Harry's chest ache with a longing for all the time they hadn't had. "You like this girl" It wasn't a question.

"I… yes I think I do. You'd like her Mum. She's lethal with knives, guns or her bare hands, but she's really bright, kind – and funny when she puts her mind to it. Oh and she's a redhead too."

Lilly sniffed. "Oh yes. I've heard about your thing for redheads from Fred Weasley. You've been saving the world long enough sweetheart. You always have a choice you know - you don't have anything to atone for. You have a right to live your own life"

"I know Mum… I do. But I do have one more job to do first…." Bending he kissed her on the cheek. "I'm sorry. Say goodbye to everyone for me"

"Good luck sweetheart. And take care of yourself. I don't want to see you back here any time soon OK."

Stepping away from her, Harry closed his eyes, focusing his power, allowing it to build slowly within him, feeling it boiling through his veins.

 _This is not real. I do not belong here. The book the staff… Natasha, battered and bruised held hard by a man and a woman._

It hurt… he could feel the pull of their love, all those he had lost, and was losing again. The urge to return to them, to rest with them quiet and safe tore at him.

But this was not yet his time or his place.

Around him the Otherworld faded and he was falling once again.

ooo0ooo

"My congratulations Harry Potter. You have done well" The woman's voice was not his mother's.

Harry opened his eyes slowly, looking around. The Otherworld, the trees, the fire, his family and friends were gone and his mind was finally clear. He stood in a vast cave, with a roof so high that it was lost in the darkness. Around the walls were a number of torches which cast just enough light to illuminate the woman's figure standing at the other end.

There was no way in or out.

Harry had been caught in smaller spaces than this, but the absence of any kind of exit unnerved him. Particularly when he had no idea where he was, or if it was even possible to apparate out.

"Who are you?" He was pleased that he sounded more self-assured than he felt.

The figure walked slowly forward out of the shadows. She was dressed in a simple gown of what looked like unbleached wool. Tall and slender her black hair hung in a single braid down her back. As she approached, the torchlight flickered over a small, strongly boned face, softened somewhat by large long lashed eyes and a wide mobile mouth. "You are welcome Harry Potter. I am Vivianne, guardian of this place and that which it protects. In the long centuries of my guardianship, you are not the first to find the sea cave, and the way that it conceals, but none have succeeded in passing through the Otherworld. You are to be congratulated."

Hearing her name, Harry's face was suddenly wary. "Vivianne. _The_ Vivianne - of the legends?"

She inclined her head. "I believe I may be yes"

"The stories don't show you as a friend to Merlin. The tales tell of how you imprisoned him in…" he paused and looked around wide eyed. "… in a cave. Is he here?"

"Alas no. I have waited here through the centuries alone. The resting place of… King Arthur as you would know him, and my Lord Merlin is lost in the darkness of history. I did attempt, in my pride and foolishness to trap my Lord in my youth, but powerful though I am, I could never had succeeded. This vigil that you see is my penance for that betrayal of one who was as a father to me."

"So you knew Caron…. sorry Alun"

Her face softened. "Indeed. For as long as I served and trained under my Lord, Alun was there at his right hand…"

"….. and when the time came it was Alun that brought Merlin's greatest treasures to your care."

"Indeed. And now the time has come for me to pass them to other hands. But beware Harry Potter. The treasure I pass to your care is a source of tremendous magical power. Whatever befalls, you must prevent it falling into the hands of those who would use its power for evil. Do you understand?"

Harry's face was sombre. "You do realise that those very evil doers are in the sea cave as we speak. Given the option, I would prefer to leave the staff and book here under your care, or failing that, to take it to the Isle of Avalon, where it can be safe in the care of the Lady Branwen, but the one that is looking for is both clever, resourceful and magically skilled. I cannot assume that, should she follow me through the portal, she will not find her way through the Otherworld to this place…. Therefore I have to remove it, even though that will also put it at risk."

Vivianne nodded gravely. "Even here Harry Potter, your name and reputation speak of your courage and your honour. This is not a trust to be passed lightly – but I pass it to you with a clear mind. Do with it as you will."

Harry bowed. "Thank you Lady Vivianne. Now if you will excuse me, time is pressing. I have already delayed far too long. On the other side of the portal my best friend and my…" he remembered Draco's words that morning and smiled "… and my lady fair are battling our enemies. If I may take the treasures, I must return to them." He looked around the cave, but even in the torchlight he was unable to see anything that could be described as a book and wizard's staff. "err… where?"

She smiled, seeing his confusion. "The treasure may not be carried between realms, to do so would destroy you. Instead it will be released by your passage through the portal."

Harry nodded tersely. "Thank you."

"Good luck Harry Potter, and may the blessings of the Goddess go with you" With a wave of her hand an area of the cave close to them shimmered a bright green/gold, completely different to the writhing darker green in the sea cave.

Harry gave a final bow. "Goodbye Lady Vivianne, and thank you again"

Hefting his wand, Harry Potter took a moment to gather himself, before squaring his shoulders and stepping through the portal.

ooo0ooo

He crash landed into a scene of utter chaos. He had only a split seconds to register Donnelly sprawled across the floor, nose and mouth blooded, eyes blank and empty. Close to the entrance of the cave Tash, hands still chained was slugging it out with Mason, who clearly had a skillset all her own if the Russian's multiple brand new injuries were to be believed.

Draco was having a worse time of it having clearly been hit several times by Ginny's curses. Scarlet and green light illuminated the entire cave as both of them struggled for dominance, but Draco was clearly weakening, sinking to his knees, wand hand shaking visibly, blood streaming from his ears and nose. _He was a powerful wizard_ remembered Harry _but his experiences in the War had weakened his reserves significantly._ Stepping forward, Harry blocked Ginny's spell easily

"I've got you Draco."

Draco could barely summon a nod of gratitude before collapsing, barely conscious. Curses flew between Harry and Ginny as they circled one another. Harry spared only a moment's concern for Natasha. She was, as he had said so often, the most lethal woman he'd ever met, she didn't need his help. His job now was to ensure he finished this with Ginny – one way or the other.

"Come on Ginny…" he circled around her, drawing her attention away from Draco "… you know there's no way this is going to end well for you don't you"

Ginny laughed, a hard taunting sound, nothing like the girl he remembered. "The great Harry Potter… How can poor little Ginny Weasley beat the _great_ Harry Potter, the boy who lived, the saviour of the wizarding world…?"

"How did this happen Ginny? Tell me, how the girl that fought against Voldemort ended up as HYDRA's pet witch? How are HYDRA any better than the bastards that killed one of your brothers and scarred another for life? How would George feel about the organisation you've whored your soul and your powers to? How did Ginny Weasley of Dumbledore's Army become HYDRA's Araposa? What does it even mean?" The curse that whistled past his ear would have finished him if he hadn't managed to avoid it, Harry thought. She was faster than he remembered, and stronger, but she was also desperate and angry, which made her careless. This could work in his favour, but it also made her as dangerous as a cornered cobra.

Ginny rolled her eyes but the stream of spells never broke or even hesitated for a moment, in spite of Harry's best attempts to probe her defences, looking for a weakness.

"Portuguese Harry dear, _a raposa_ is the fox in Portuguese. Would it kill you to attempt to learn another language at some point in your illustrious career?"

"Oh of course. Your rich boyfriend... let me guess... who worked for HYDRA... was Portuguese. I suppose that was your pet name. How sweet _."_

Ginny shook her head, glittering grief clearly visible in her eyes. "No. Agostinho was Portuguese, but he wasn't HYDRA. I met Sunil when he came to stay at our villa on the Algarve, and fell in love. It was Sunil who recruited me into HYDRA. He was fascinated by me... had never seen anyone quite like me…"

Behind her, Natasha choked back a laugh as she landed her trademark roundhouse kick to Mason's jaw, sending her reeling backwards into the rock wall, amused in spite of their dire circumstances. "Oh God no... You're one of Bakshi's women…"

Ginny whirled, white with fury, Harry forgotten, light flashing from her wand, ripping a gash in Natasha's already battered face. " _I am_ not _one of Bakshi's women…_ _He was_ _mine… I loved him_ and _he loved me."_ The Russian winced as the blood ran down her face and into her eye, but made no sound, refusing to give her the satisfaction. Behind her, Mason stirred slowly, spitting teeth and blood with a groan. With barely a glance, Natasha smashed her manacles into the side of the Englishwoman's head and she collapsed limply back against the wall of the cave deeply unconscious.

 _Oh well done Tash…._ With Ginny's fury entirely focused on spitting fire and fury at Natasha, Harry saw his moment. But intense magical combat, following on from his trips between the portals had taken more out of him than he had anticipated. Breathing heavily, he took a moment to gather himself first - and nearly left it too late. Behind Ginny the crack in the wall that had housed the portal was now glowing with a curious silver light. Outlined in the light he could see the book and staff. Oblivious, Tash was busy distracting Ginny to give him time, but Harry knew that even her strength wouldn't last much longer.

"Don't flatter yourself sweetheart." Natasha gasped, wearily. " He was young, charming and handsome and HYDRA made use of that shamelessly for recruiting purposes. He was also their leading expert on brainwashing. Don't forget that brainwashing takes many forms, and not all involve torture, drugs or even mind control spells."

 _"_ I was not _brainwashed….tricked…"_ sparks flew uncontrollably from Ginny's wand, and red-gold light flickered strangely around her, as though her magic was leaking out of the pores of her skin. Her voice was now shrill and shaking slightly with fury "… nor was I under a _spell._ I am an agent of HYDRA and I did it for _HIM._ SHIELD killed him… and now, _finally_ I'm going to... _Avada Ke_ …"

There was a flash and the light went out in Ginny's eyes. Over her shoulder Natasha saw Harry leaning wearily against the wall, wand in shaking hand. Before his horrified eyes Ginny's lifeless body lurched backwards, straight into the silver glow that emitted from the crevasse.

With an ear splitting roar, the crevasse exploded.

 _This was becoming a habit_ thought Harry sourly as he squinted to open his eyes, head throbbing agonisingly. As the dust settled, ears bleeding, head spinning he finally manage to lurch to his feet, seeing with relief that Tash and Draco were also beginning to rise. Ginny lay against the opposite wall of the cave, the streak of thick bright blood down the rock and her sightless eyes told their own tale. Harry closed his eyes for a moment, remembering the girl with the blazing look in her eyes, kissing him in the middle of the Gryffindor common room, the day they won the Quidditch Cup. _I'm sorry Ginny..._

Above his head, something creaked ominously jolting him abruptly back to his present situation.

 _The book and staff…. he had to secure them._

Legs shaking uncontrollably, almost too tired to put one foot in front of the other, Harry dragged himself back to the now much wider crevasse where the book and staff were still visible through the silvery smoke.

The floor of the cave shifted sickeningly beneath his feet and Harry froze in horror as above him, the roof of the cave started to collapse….


	14. Chapter 14

CAUTION - FURTHER INFORMATION (but no graphic description) RELATING TO NATASHA'S ASSAULT AT THE END OF CHAPTER TWELVE. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED

* * *

Harry woke up to find Hermione by his bed.

It was a scene they had played out so many times over the years, that for a moment he was confused, as time blurred, taking him back to his days at Hogwarts.

"Ohhhh. Not again. What did I do _this_ time. What happened?"

Hermione took his hand. "How much do you remember?"

Harry frowned, then shook his head hopelessly… "I remember being in a helicopter with Draco, and a cliff, the sea…then it all gets a bit… confusing... weird... yes, weird is good. Definitely weird" He squinted around the room. "Do they have me on the good pain potions again?"

"There was an explosion in the cave you were in and the roof was coming down. According to Draco you were thrown – or may have spontaneously apparated clear, but you went straight back in... at which point the rest of the roof came down. It took them _six hours_ to dig you out." She squeezed his hand in both of hers. "I'm sorry Harry. I'm afraid Ginny didn't make it. I wasn't aware she was involved in the case. I suppose she was the one you were trying to rescue."

 _Ginny_

It felt as though several gallons of iced water had been dropped on him, as his mind finally made sense of Hermione's words. "Ginny... wasn't working for us. She was Araposa... working for HYDRA. She didn't die in the cave-in... I killed her"

Hermione went very pale. "HYDRA. Are you sure?"

"Oh yes. That was what caused the explosion. The portal I came out of changed as soon as I came through it, because by then _I_ was the guardian of the..." he couldn't remember how much Hermione knew, so he erred on the side of caution "...the thing we were looking for by then. Once I was through it became the portal that concealed... that only I could access. Ginny was about to kill... I killed her, and she lurched back into the portal. But she didn't have the right... the portal exploded. We were all picking ourselves up off the floor, trying to get out when the first section of the roof came down... I don't... I don't remember much more.

"Did you get what you were looking for?"

 _When the time comes you will have to choose_

Harry shook his head. "I destroyed it. As far as Kingsley's concerned I did it to stop HYDRA getting to it, but truly... I did it to stop _anyone_ getting to it. Grindelwald, Voldemort, HYDRA, Loki, the Third Reich - even SHIELD and the Ministry itself. There's always another power trying to take over the world, and I'm damned if I'll leave it for them to find. It was a risk I wasn't prepared to take. My job was to secure it, to keep it from falling into the wrong hands. Well I've done it... mission accomplished." He leaned back on his pillow, more tired than he was prepared to admit. A healer came in, exclaimed happily that he was awake, waved her wand over him muttering under her breath, left another pain potion on the bedside, extracting a faithful promise from Hermione that she would ensure that Harry took it before she left. Ignoring her bustling, Harry watched Hermione with some concern, noting the unmistakable signs of too many tears and not enough sleep.

He squeezed her hand. "Draco, is he alright?"

Hermione nodded, her face tightening. "We hope so, but it's a little soon to tell."

Harry grinned weakly. "So why are you here, not holding _his_ hand?"

Hermione's brown eyes welled up and she bit her lip. Harry felt like an arse for teasing her. "Because he still hasn't opened his eyes since he lost consciousness shortly after the rescue party arrived. It's a bloody good job he did get out, and was able to send me a patronus, otherwise no one would have known to summon help. What were you thinking Harry? As I said, it took six hours to get you out, and longer to recover the bodies. Other than Ginny, there was a man and a woman in there too, he had his neck broken and the woman had the side of her head caved in. As far as we can see it appears that they did _not_ die in the explosion."

 _Natasha's work,_ Harry thought...

"Natasha?"

Still thinking of Draco, Hermione looked up, confused. "Natasha?"

"Was there a woman with bright red hair?"

Hermione's frowned deepened, looking a little nervous. "Harry... you remember? Ginny is dead."

Harry shook his head irritably, trying not to notice the pain and dizziness that resulted. "No. Not Ginny. Dammit Hermione I may have had a bang on the head, I'm not... There was another woman, not as tall as Ginny, a little older. Wearing a grey hoodie and jeans - her hands would have been manacled. Her name is Natasha Romanoff and I ..."

"Go on Harry"

"... I think I may possibly be in love with her"

The silence stretched out, until Harry thought he was going to scream. "Hermione...?"

"I'm sorry Harry. I have no idea who you're talking about. There was no-one else in the cave."

ooo0ooo

It was another thirty six hours until Harry was able to get out of bed. Thirty six hours during which a number of the men from the Phoenix Squad visited him, bringing sweets and other small gifts. One even managed to smuggle a bottle of Ogden's Best in past the healers, although Harry didn't feel up to drinking it.

Harry saw nothing of Fitch, the Head of MLE, or of Kingsley Shacklebolt.

Four days after he was pulled from the cave Harry was finally discharged from St Mungo's. A nasty fracture, caused by a rock pinning his leg for six hours had been healed, but was still tender necessitating the use of a walking stick for a few more days. The fact that he felt more than a little like Mad Eye Moody didn't help Harry's mood. It had taken him two hours before he actually physically left the building. Two hours in which he combed the narrow uneven corridors of the hospital, asking every member of staff that he found the same question, but to no avail. No one had any knowledge of a red haired muggle, or even of a red haired woman that was still unconscious and therefore assumed to be magical.

Eventually Harry gave up, and apparated to a quiet corner of London to start combing the Muggle Hospitals, trying to ignore the pain in his head and face, and the throbbing ache in his leg. Eventually, when it was too late to wander around hospitals asking questions without attracting too much attention, and the pain behind his eyes was getting too bad to ignore he gave up and went home for a few hours of restless sleep.

The following day, and six hospitals later he found her...

Given the ward details by the front desk, he decided to take advantage of the fact that it was visiting time to wander confidently down the corridor, scanning each room that he passed. On the second pass, he saw her. A quick flick of magic activated an alarm at the other end of the ward, leaving the nurses' station temporarily clear. Taking his chance, Harry slipped quietly into the side room, the hustle and bustle of the ward outside vanishing as the door closed softly behind him.

"Hi"

She still looked awful, he thought seeing the bruising and swelling that still covered a significant amount of her face and arms. Her hands and wrists were bandaged, and cuts to her mouth and brow had been stitched. But what bothered him most was a certain – blankness in her expression. He had hoped she would be pleased to see him – or at least pissed with him for not backing her up properly in the garden. The look of mild curiosity was... unsettling.

He had been staring. The curiosity was replaced with suspicion, one bandaged hand slipping unobtrusively beneath the covers - presumably for whatever weapon she had managed to stash under there.

"Hi Tash. How're you feeling?"

She frowned, searching his face for a moment. "I'm sorry. Do I know you? Are you one of the doctors?"

"It's me Tash. Harry?"

She was silent for a moment, then shook her head. "I'm sorry, you must have mistaken me for someone else. I don't think we've ever met."

 _It was as if he'd been punched hard in the stomach. Why didn't she remember him? Had she had a bang on the head... traumatic amnesia? He needed to speak to the nurses._

He didn't push it... excusing himself politely he closed the door behind him, leaning weakly against the wall for a moment, trying to calm down, the blood roaring in his ears, heart pounding.

Once he was a little calmer he approached the desk casually flashed his Auror badge, which appeared, to Muggle eyes to identify him as DI Porter of the Metropolitan Police. Seeing him the nurse on the station put the phone down and looked up with a distracted smile. "How can I help you Detective Inspector?"

Harry showed her a picture of Natasha that he'd taken that afternoon on the beach. "I'm looking for this woman – she is currently missing, believed to have come to some harm. I understand that you have a patient that may match her description."

The nurse re-examined his credentials carefully, then nodded. "Oh yes DI Porter, she's been here nearly a week now. Poor Ms Rushmore, they found her sitting in a side room in Accident and Emergency – no idea how she got here, but your timing's spot on. She only woke up for the first time last night."

Fear clenched the pit of Harry's stomach. If she'd been unconscious that long, she must have been more badly injured than her appearance had suggested.. And how the hell had she ended up in a muggle hospital in North London? And why the hell did she look at him as if she'd never seen him before in her life. Clutching the rags of his professional persona, he asked the nurse how bad Natasha's injuries were.

The nurse – Jane according to her badge searched her computer files rapidly, frowning at what she read. "That's the strange thing. She clearly suffered a serious and sustained beating, probably within 24-36 hours of her admission if the colour of the bruising is anything to go by; she seems to have been in a fight more recently too – gave as good as she got by the look of her hands, but other than some superficial bruising there was no sign of any head injury that could account for the depth and length of her unconsciousness. She's clearly been held prisoner by someone, her wrists and ankles have been restrained – the skin is lacerated in places, and heavily bruised – and I'm talking shackles here, not the sort of handcuffs you can pick up in the high street."

"What does she remember?"

"Well now, that's the odd thing. She has no recollection of being injured, or the events leading up to it. She's American you know?" Harry nodded tersely. "She says she remembers coming to London on a business trip, and that's all... " Her cheerful expression faded. "Perhaps that's a good thing"

"Because of the beating?"

She shook her head. "Not just the beating. You'll need to go through formal channels to get the details... but we did the full range of tests on admission... there was evidence of a violent sexual assault." She rose, concerned by the expression on his face. " DI Porter are you alright? Do you need a cup of tea? You've gone awfully pale."

With a tremendous force of will, Harry dragged himself together. "No, I'm sorry, it's been a busy day, and I skipped lunch. It's really hot in here too. I don't know how you stand it. Thank you for your help ... Jane. I may be back tomorrow with a female colleague to speak to her."

"That may be a good idea - when I checked half an hour ago she was asleep."

Harry nodded distractedly. "I won't wake her then, thank you" Unable to contain himself any longer, Harry turned on his heel and strode away.

He just managed to hurl himself into a convenient toilet before he was suddenly and violently ill.

ooo0ooo

That night Harry Potter curled up on the sofa in his library with a bottle of Ogden's Best Fire Whisky, and got thoroughly and miserably drunk... He hadn't done anything so recklessly and humiliatingly self indulgent since those wretched months after the end of the war, when he had spent weeks holed up in Grimmauld Place, with the wards slammed shut, just sleeping, drinking and staring at the walls until his forehead bled, wallowing in a morass of guilt and self-recrimination. Eventually Hermione had lost patience with him, and had borrowed a Hogwarts House Elf to apparate her in - wards - like other forms of magic, apparently didn't have any effect whatsoever on House Elf Magic. She had been fired with determination to get Draco out of Azkaban, and insisted that Harry help her.

Looking back, she had saved him as well as Draco.

Tormented by the memories of those he had left behind in The Otherworld, and the thought of what Tash must have gone through at the hands of Donnelly and Mason, Harry took another long swig of Firewhisky. He'd reached the stage where using a glass seemed terribly prissy and unnecessary when the bottle was just so much easier, simplifying the systematic obliteration of the blank look he had seen in Natasha's eyes that afternoon. Almost like someone that had...

" _Oh you have got to be fucking kidding me_. Kingsley you son of a _bitch!_ "

Even through the haze of exhaustion and alcohol, Draco's words - spoken in that very room - came back to him as clear as day. " _Don't let her out of your sight Harry."_

He really hoped that he still had a hangover potion in the bathroom. He would need a clear head for the morning.

ooo0ooo

The following morning saw Harry - coffee and potioned back to his usual nine tenths human stomped into the Ministry Atrium, with a face like thunder. Abruptly dodging the large number of witches and wizards wanting to inquire after his health he took the first available lift to the Minister for Magic's office.

Natasha had gone...

He had called the hospital that morning, only to be informed that a woman had arrived the previous night. The lady had appeared to be pleased to see her, and after a short conversation Natasha had checked herself out against the Doctor's advise and nothing had been seen since. They had done their best to pursuade her to stay, but she was having none of it, they had reported.

The witch on the desk in Kingsley's reception area told him that the Minister wasn't able to see him at the moment, so Harry went in anyway. It was a good thing that the door opened for him, he thought belligerently, as he was perfectly willing to blow the bloody thing off its hinges if he'd had to, but it might be better _not_ to commit an act of magical vandalism in the office of the most powerful man in Wizarding Britain – old friend or otherwise – if he could help it.

"Where is she Kingsley? And what the _fuck_ did you do to her?"

Kingsley was a politician and a damn good one, thought Harry. But years with the Aurors had taught Harry to read a face as easily as a book. In the split second before Kingsley's genial, professional face had slammed into position, his expression had been all too clear.

Guilt

What the hell had he done. Had Draco been right to suspect that Natasha was in danger, not just from HYDRA but from his, Harry's, friends and colleagues?

Just how far was Kingsley prepared to go to protect their secret?

"Harry. Are you alright by friend, you seem a bit upset. Good to see you up and about so quickly. Excellent job. Well done. Shame you had to destroy the artifacts of course, but still. Better than..."

Harry forced the words out between gritted teeth. "Where is Natasha Romanoff Kingsley?"

"Ah"

"Ah?"

"Well that's the thing Harry. I haven't seen the lovely Ms Romanoff since that day in your kitchen. Didn't even realise she was still with you. Probably gone back to New York by now. Unless…"

"Unless what Kingsley?"

"Just exactly _how_ familiar are you with her err… record Harry."

"Intimitely Kingsley. And you're not trying that one on me. There is no way that she was HYDRA. And while we're on the subject, can you throw any light on why it was that when I finally found her in the most random hospital imaginable, where she had apparently been dropped rather unceremoniously; that she had no idea who I was, or that we had ever met before? _"_

Kingsley shrugged. "She didn't remember you. That's most unfortunate. She probably sustained a blow on the head. Given her lifestyle... and old injury perhaps..."

Harry tried for almost another half an hour, but Kingsley's shield's were up with a vengeance. Eventually he gave up, and rose from his seat with an abruptness that cut Kingsley off mid-sentence, and left.

"Harry?" But Harry was halfway through the door. "Harry! Don't forget your report"

Harry snarled a curse over his shoulder as the door slammed. On Kingsley's desk one of his quills suddenly sprang to life, scrawling across a report on the illegal trade in exotic potions ingredients…

 _Dear Minister Shacklebolt._

 _I quit. With immediate effect._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Harry Potter_

ooo0ooo

As soon as Harry crashed back into Grimmauld Place he retrieved Natasha's mobile from his desk - it had been purely by accident that had left it in the library when he and Draco left for Anglesey... he had cursed its absence at the time, but with hindsight, had it come to Anglesey the chances were that it would never have survived the experience. In all the anxiety of the last few days he had completely forgotten its existence. Muttering in relief Harry turned it on... hoping that it hadn't been disconnected.

There were five missed calls from the same number.

" _Stark residence. How may I direct your call"_

"Hello Jarvis. Good to speak to you again. Is Mr Stark available? This is Harry Potter"

" _Mr Potter, how very good to hear from you. We were most concerned when we were unable to reach you. Unfortunately Mr Stark is engaged on Avengers business at present and cannot be contacted unless in the greatest of emergencies. Do you wish him to call you on his return... it may be a little while."_

"Thank you Jarvis, that would be great. In the meantime, can you please set my mind to rest on one thing... is Natasha in New York?"

Was it Harry's imagination, or was there a subtle softening in the AI's voice. " _Indeed Mr Potter. I apologise, I was not informed that you were unaware that we had repatriated her. Had I known I would have gone to greater lengths to ensure that I informed you myself."_

Harry sank onto his desk chair, knees weak with relief. "Jarvis, you've taken a huge weight off my mind, thank you. Would you mind giving Mr Stark a message?"

" _It would be my pleasure Mr Potter."_

"Could you please ask him whether he is interested in adding magic to his technological repertoire?"

" _It will be my pleasure Sir"_


	15. Chapter 15

_Grimmauld Place, nearly four weeks later..._

Harry had been prowling restlessly around his library for the better part of the afternoon, double checking that all the books he needed had been packed, when the floo had chimed, announcing Hermione's arrival. This was in itself unusual - Hermione had been in his life far too long to stand on ceremony. If his floo was open, she just popped through unannounced, even if Harry was out the wards would let her through.

Today however, she seemed... subdued... nervous even, hovering on the hearthrug, twisting the hem of her muggle shirt anxiously.

Harry smiled and came over to give her a hug. "Hermione, what a lovely surprise." Seeing the evident signs of stress he stopped, frowning. "Hermione. Is everything alright with Draco? What is it?"

Hermione shook her head, her movements less easy and graceful than usual. "No... no Draco's fine Harry. He's much happier now he's out of hospital, and I'm... well... he's staying with me for now. I couldn't leave him on his own... after..." A serious blow to the head was only one of the injuries that had, on top of magical exhaustion, kept Draco confined to St Mungo's for far longer than either Harry or Hermione had anticipated, and he had only been finally discharged a little over a week ago.

"That's good. I thought he looked much better when I last visited him last... that was just before he came out of hospital I think. Since then... well... the move and getting everything sorted... I'll visit him before I go though, I promise."

She smiled, but it was a forced and brittle thing, nothing like her usual brightness. Harry's heart sank. Whatever this was, it wasn't good.

"How's the packing going?"

"All done. I'm not taking vast amounts with me. The movers are arriving tonight to transport the crates to the airport. Apparently, by the time I arrive it'll all be unpacked."

Hermione shrugged, distracted. "It's tough at the top."

Harry grinned. "Well I'm not arguing. One of the reasons I've been here so long is my passionate aversion to packing and unpacking. If I can get someone to do it for me, so much the better. He looked at his hands, which were covered in dust and grimaced, wiping them on the legs of his jeans. "Right. I think I still have a kettle and some mugs in the kitchen, could you use some tea?"

Hermione flipped distractedly through the pages of one of the books piled higgeldy piggeldy on the coffee table, blissfully unaware that it was upside down. Realising she was supposed to reply, she looked up hastily. "Err... do you have anything stronger?"

Harry blinked in surprised. _Shit_... _whatever this was he wasn't going to like it was he?_

A few minutes later, when the books had been cleared off the sofa and coffee table, Harry retrieved two glasses from the kitchen. "I only have Firewhisky I'm afraid. Would you like ice - soda?"

"Just ice please". Harry's feeling of disquiet was growing stronger by the second. Abandoning common sense, he poured himself a generous two fingers, forgoing the ice.

"OK Hermione. What is it, 'cos I have to say that you're freaking me out?"

Hermione took a moment to watch the ice swirling around her glass, before knocking half of it back in a single gulp. Harry's eyebrows shot into his hairline. Generally Hermione was a white wine, or possibly gin and tonic girl. He could count the number of time he'd seen her with Firewhisky on the fingers of one hand - and he'd probably still have a few fingers left over.

Seeing his expression, Hermione looked - if possible - even more uncertain. "Harry... we've been friends for a long time, and we've been through a lot together right?"

Harry leaned back into the sofa, nodding.

"So you know that if I did anything... that you didn't like... that would make you angry... that it would be for a very _very_ good reason right?"

 _Oh this was bad. This was very bad indeed._ "Hermione... what did you do?"

She was silent for a moment, gathering her thoughts. "Harry... do you remember when you were in St Mungo's the first time, just before you and Draco apparated out? When I was talking to Kingsley outside."

Harry shook his head... "Oh no Hermione... please tell me you didn't ..."

Hermione knew that there was no way that this was going to go well, but he had to know. "Kingsley told me that you or Draco may send to me rather than the Ministry if you needed help. If this was the case I had to ensure that I was the first on the scene, and secure the person of... of" Seeing Harry's expression, her voice faltered to a whisper "... of Natasha Romanoff."

Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath..."You were the one that took her to the muggle hospital weren't you?" Harry's face gave nothing away, but his voice was flat and angry. When she gave a tiny nod, he pushed himself suddenly off the sofa, needing to put more space between them. "Dammit Hermione. Did Kingsley have you obliviate her too?"

"She knew too much Harry, had seen too much. Kingsley didn't feel he could risk it. Hogwarts, Avalon. Branwen's _library_ "

Harry put his head in his hands. "Oh shit. That was the deal wasn't it... to get us into Avalon?" A waste paper basket that happened to be in the wrong place was kicked viciously across the room. Hermione winced as it crashed through the window. "No wonder Kingsley looked so bloody shifty that morning in the kitchen. What... they couldn't have just said no... no Mr Potter you'll have to go on your own... get off your lazy arse and work it out for yourself. No. They let her in because it was easy, because there was a better chance we'd solve it between us. After all, why worry. She's only a muggle after all... hardly worth bothering about..." Hermione didn't think she had ever seen him so angry. "For fuck's sake Hermione... she's _Russian...KGB trained_. Don't you read anything except magical tomes? The Black Widow Project... programming... mind control. It's a very sensitive issue for her. And in the Battle of New York... You have heard of the Battle of New York haven't you? In the Battle of New York, her best friend was as good as _imperio'd_ by a psychotic Norse God and killed god knows how many friends,colleagues and innocent civilians while he was under the influence. Tash's spent most of her free time since then trying to stitch him back together. _Natasha Romanoff is really not a huge fan of mind control, magical or otherwise!_ "

"Harry.."

"I wiped half an hour from Donnelly's memory, and implanted the memory of getting drunk in the park and she nearly had my head." Seeing her expression, he rubbed his forehead wearily. "Thanks Hermione. I finally found someone... someone I might have a chance with... and you lobotomised her."

"Harry I..."

"No Hermione. I think you should go. I need to... I need to calm the fuck down before I can get my head around the this. Please... just... go."

The silence between them had never been so dense, so suffocating before. Eventually Hermione rose to her feet.

"OK Harry, I'll go... but before I do, there's something I need to tell you - and you need to listen"

Harry, who had been pacing the library floor like a caged tiger, stopped reluctantly.

"You have to remember that my orders came straight from Kingsley... if I'd refused... well, he'd just have found someone else to do it."

"Oh right" Harry snarled, mood hitting white hot once more... "It wasn't my fault - I was just following orders... since when was that _you_ Hermione? Since when have you just done something simply because they told you to?"

"Let me finish" she snapped back, upset, but determined to get her point across... "If Kingsley had got someone else to do it... well they might have done the job properly..."

Harry's posture relaxed subtly, expression softening from blind fury to confused. "What do you mean... properly?"

Silently, Hermione reached into her bag and extracted a small box, which she handed to him. Opening it, Harry found a vial, carefully stoppered and sealed, to protect the silvery-white liquid within. Harry looked up at her wide eyed, his anger forgotten. "Hermione, is this... is this even possible on a muggle?"

Even under the circumstances, Hermione couldn't resist looking just a little smug. "Oh yes - it's possible, but it needs someone who _really_ knows what they're doing. I extracted copies of her memories before I obliviated her... that way, if Kingsley had checked, there would be no repercussions." Seeing Harry relax she risked a hand on his arm. "You haven't known this woman very long Harry, are you sure? You're giving up your job... your life?"

Harry nodded. "I'm not giving up my job Hermione... I think that's been over for a while. Like I said to Tash, sooner or later the world's going to have to learn to get by without me. And I'd really like that to be through my choice, not because I caught the wrong end of someone's hex, and ended up another name on the Ministry's Wall of Remembrance. I know it's all happened really quickly - but what could we do?. It would have been lovely to have the luxury of taking things slowly, getting to know each other over months rather than days and weeks, but she was always going back to New York, and I guess it just put an urgency into things. I just know... there was something there you know, and I've got to follow it up. If it doesn't work out... well so be it. But I have to find out. I'm so tired of going through life wondering what might have happened if..."

Slowly, Hermione nodded. "I get it Harry, I do. It's just... it's such a long way away. Are you... are you still angry with me?"

He shook his head, wrapping an arm around her shoulders to pull her close enough for him to drop a kiss on her head. "With you... no, although I wish you'd told me earlier... hadn't lied about her not being in the cave. But with Kingsley..." his expression darkened. "It's a good thing I can't get into the staff areas of the Ministry anymore, or I might be seriously tempted to break his fucking neck."

Hermione leaned against him, suddenly tired. She hadn't slept the previous night, dreading this confrontation, but knowing it couldn't be avoided. "Why do you think I left it so late...? If I'm taking a portkey I'd rather it was to the Big Apple, not Azkaban."

"You'll visit?"

"Of course we'll visit"

Harry smiled at the "we".

"That might be a good idea. I think Draco would rather be on hand when I finally get to introduce you to Captain America"

Yes, that was definitely a fangirl squeal..." _Harry Potter!"_

ooo0ooo

 _SHIELD Headquarters. Four weeks later._

The receptionist ended the call on her all but invisible wireless headpiece and smiled brightly. "Would you mind taking a seat please, someone will be coming to take you up in a few minutes. Can I offer you a drink while you're waiting?"

The tall man in the immaculately cut grey suit declined politely, and moved quietly away from the reception desk to allow others to come forward. Taking a deep breath, nervously checking his tie, he looked appreciatively around the sleek modern atrium, where marble, chrome and black leather were softened by lush planting and clever lighting. Between the gleaming elevator doors his eye was caught by a row of large photographs. Wandering over to the picture of a pale, black haired man in green and gold armour, his eyes widened and a soft chuckle escaped him.

"Good Lord, Tash wasn't joking was she…."

"Checking out our 'Most Wanted' Mr Potter?"

Harry took a last look at the close up of the thin faced man in the horned helmet, before turning away. To his amusement the owner of the voice, an imposing one eyed man in black leather started visibly, clearly seeing the same resemblance that Natasha had. Recovering himself quickly, he offered his hand.

"I'm Director Nick Fury. Stark said you'd be joining us…"

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Director Fury… I wasn't expecting you to come and meet me in person."

Fury shook his head. "I just came in from another meeting. They said you were waiting…." He led Harry to one of the many elevators, scanning his one good eye to obtain access. "Welcome to Washington. How long have you been here?"

"I flew in this morning on Tony's private jet. My luggage should already be at Avengers Tower, I sent it on ahead two days ago. I was hoping to fly into New York and check that everything arrived safely, but our take-off was delayed by fog, and I didn't want to be late." It would have been much easier to take an international Portkey, thought Harry, but this was a muggle world that he was living and working in now. Having proper muggle records of his movements made life much easier, and a transatlantic flight on a Starkjet was really no hardship at all.

Fury's eyebrows flew up. "At the Tower? Is that a permanent arrangement?"

Harry shrugged, refusing to be drawn. In truth it depended a great deal on the small vial, safely secured in his luggage, and on the next few weeks with Natasha.

 _"Harry - you have to be careful, you can't just give those memories back without talking to her first."_ Harry thought back to his final conversation with Hermione, in a fog-bound airport, while Draco went to get coffee. _"Remember - I've seen those memories, I've seen what that bastard did to her. She may not want them back. It might be easier simply to start afresh..."_

"I have no idea Director. It's a little early to say. Tony has been very kind, putting a whole floor and a research lab at my disposal and we will probably be working together on a number of projects, so living in the same building will be very convenient." It would also put him in closer contact with Natasha, but that was none of Fury's business.

With a ping, the elevator stopped, and Fury led him through into a large boardroom, sleek and modern like the rest of the building with windows all down one side, giving spectacular views across the city. Seeing them enter, Tony Stark, wearing the sharpest suit Harry had ever seen, left the huddle around the coffee machine and strode over to greet him... his smile and personality filling the room as always.

Harry made a mental note to find out the name of his tailor. Clearly the guy was a wizard...

"Harry. Great to actually meet you at last. Welcome to the US of A. Let me introduce you to the team." Extracted deftly from Fury's clutches, Harry tried very hard not to look starstruck as he was introduced to some of the most famous faces in the world as "Harry Potter - all the way from England. My new Magical Consultant."

But there was no sign of Natasha.

Harry hoped that he didn't look as horribly disappointed as he felt as he sipped some excellent coffee and chatted with Steve Rogers and Bruce Banner. Rogers was every bit what he'd expected - if a little too much like Percy Weasley in his devotion to rules and regulations for Harry's liking. The softly spoken Banner, with the dry twinkle in his eye however, seemed like he may well become a friend given a little time. Clint Barton on the other hand, watched him silently from the other side of the room, his eyes watchful and suspicious. Knowing a little of his story, Harry wasn't surprised. Barton's previous experiences with magic had not been good ones.

Fury called the meeting to order, confirmed that Harry had met everyone, then got down to business. They had been discussing the recent problems that they'd been having with Dr Doom for about ten minutes, Rogers was in full flow, and Stark was looking bored already, when Harry heard a door entering behind him and a light familiar step.

"Sorry I'm late, I only just got into town, and I couldn't get a cab from the airport. In the end I called Happy, Tony and he sent someone over to pick me up I hope that's ..."

Harry had risen to greet her. Seeing him she stopped mid sentence...

Thoroughly briefed by Harry and with his usual faultless timing, Tony Stark stepped up smiling broadly.

" _Harry, I'd like you to meet Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow_..."

* * *

 _And here we are at last... the end._

 _Well maybe the end of the beginning... because there will of course, be a little more to this story. Probably a three shot, following up on Harry and Natasha in New York. This will be a rather different story, and I really need a bit of a break before I tackle it, because this has been, without a doubt, the toughest thing I've written so far. It's also been the first story I've ever considered abandoning... but there are no abandoned stories on my profile and I'm not about to start now._

 _There are still bits of the story I'm not happy with... yes OK I made a right mess of the ambush in the garden, and I will eventually go and put it right._

 _But not yet._

 _My thanks to all of you lovely people that have stuck with me to the end, and apologies for all those reviewers that I never got back to. I did try, but if I'd replied to everyone I never would have had time to write any more of the story. So to them, a special thank you, particularly to those who sent some wonderful, and well thought out comments - thank you for your time, your trouble and your patience._

 _Until next time._

 _Merrick x_


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